


Rebuilding the Nest

by coffeegleek



Series: Empty Nest Verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU Klaine, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cat Kurt, Cat/Human Hybrids, Homeless Blaine, Homeless Kurt, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Blaine, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kitty Kurt, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Violence, Not your typical hybrid or kitty!Kurt fic, au glee, hybrid kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 111,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeegleek/pseuds/coffeegleek
Summary: Sequel to Empty Nest and takes place immediately after. Kurt is a runaway, homeless feline hybrid. Burt and Carole are empty nesters who see him sleeping under their porch. During the months that follow, Kurt slowly learns to trust them. Unlocking the door to the Hummel's enclosed back porch was a huge step. There were so many more left to go.





	1. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Empty Nest and takes place immediately after. Kurt is a runaway, homeless feline hybrid. Burt and Carole are empty nesters who see him sleeping under their porch. During the months that follow, Kurt slowly learns to trust them. Unlocking the door to the Hummels' enclosed back porch was a huge step. There were so many more left to go.

\-------------------

Kurt took a deep breath and began walking across the snow, each step a soft crunch as it broke through the ice. It wasn't long before he arrived at the back door. Sticking his hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out a key. It was time.

He fumbled getting the key into the lock. The gloves he was wearing were too big. His hands too cold. His body shaking from the momentousness of it all. He could do this. He had to do this and not just as a means to surviving the night. 

The key turned and the tumblers of the lock fell back, releasing their grip. 

Hand on door knob, he turned it to the right.

He pushed. The door creaked open.

Deep breath. One step. Another. And he was through the door. He didn't let it close behind him. 

The first thing Kurt noticed was that the room was cold. He was expecting warmth. He laughed. A whole two seconds inside a house after a year and a half on the streets and he was already taking electricity for granted. With the power out, of course the portable heater wouldn't work. 

He took in the solid realness of it all. Curtain covered windows were framed by pale blue walls. At least he thought they were blue. It was hard to see in this level of darkness. Shapes and outlines of a bench, boots and coat still wet from the snow, an old bicycle, and some boxes. 

Then there were the things obviously left out with care for him. An inflatable mattress had been tucked into a cleared out corner at the back of the narrow room. It had been made up with sheets, a pillow, and layers of quilts. Upon this lay a change of clothes: thick sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and thermal undergarments. There was even an unopened package of socks. On the bench, the closest object to the door, were a few folded blankets, a box of protein bars, some Rubbermaid containers filled with, he assumed, the beef stew Carole had made, and a thermos. Everything he would need to get through the night whether inside or out. 

Kurt looked to the right, at the wooden door that led into the rest of the house. It was closed and there was no light shining through the small panes of glass that formed a decorative diamond pattern in the center. Only silence came from the behind it. He didn't know if it was locked or even if it could be. Didn't know if he should find something to press against it to keep anyone from coming in. Then again, they could always come in through the back door. He wasn't the only one with a key.

He had made his choice. It was time to trust. He stepped fully inside the room and closed the back door. 

Kurt took off his coat, boots, and outer layer of pants. Shook the snow from his hat and gloves, then put them back on. He opened the package of socks and indulged himself in the softness of a fresh, dry pair. Gently, he lay the other new clothing aside. After another deep breath, he pulled the covers back, laid down upon the mattress, pulled the blankets over himself, and curled into a ball of grateful nervousness. He could do this.

It took time to calm the whirling of his thoughts, but eventually sleep overcame them. He dreamed of snow. He dreamed of snow and a rushing waterfall covering an icy outcropping in a silent forest. With a start, he woke. Fuck. He had to pee. 

With a groan he left the cocoon. Unfamiliar and a bit scary or not, it was warm from the heat of his body and outside was cold and snow. He shoved his feet into his boots, pulled on his coat, and opened the door. The drifts of "nature's frigid, powdery glistenings," or whatever the author, Miss Perky, had called them, were too high for him to make his way behind the garage, so he chose a spot the furthest away from his shelter. Jackass Charlie's fence hadn't seen some karma in awhile. Peeing outside had never sucked so much before. Neither had doing the other thing his body decided it needed to do. Because having your dick fall off in the middle of a snowstorm wasn't enough, now his bare ass was going to as well. Fuck he was cold. No way could Noah and Lauren have had sex in the snow. And why was he even thinking about them right now?

Finally empty and cleaned off as best he could, he trudged back to the house, passing his shelter along the way. It was completely covered, only the raised seat back of the converted bench could be seen. Gods, he would have died if he had stayed in there. He brushed the snow off the other storage bench and retrieved some of his gear. If he was going to accept the back porch as his new home, even a temporary one, it would be nice to have a few things with him. Burt and Carole had gone to all that trouble to get them for him anyway and he hadn't read last year's fall issue of Vogue yet. 

"Whatever it takes to convince yourself, Kurt." The whisper sounded loud to his ears. The world was still as dark and silent as before. Not even the snow plows were up yet.

It was easier to open the door this time. Not super easy, but it was another start. As before, he removed his coat and boots, brushed off the snow clinging to everywhere else, and climbed back into bed. This time, sleep came easier.

* * * * * * *

"Don't forget to leave him a note."

"I'm writing it, Carole. You sure you have to go into work today?"

"Emergency services never close. You know that, Dear. As if you were going to stay home. I know you, Burt."

"What? And miss out on the income those drivers stupid enough to be on the road last night will bring me?"

"Pot meet kettle."

Burt laughed at his wife and finished the note. At first unsure where to leave it, in the end he decided to tape it to the window in the door. Hopefully, the kid would see it when he woke up.

* * * * * * * 

Kurt waited until the voices stopped, the front door closed, and he heard Burt's truck and Carole's car drive away. Only then did climb out of bed and walk to the door that separated the back porch and interior of the house. Unable to make out all of the words on the note through the translucent panes of glass, he opened the door and looked inside.

It was a kitchen, white and pale gray, clean lines, yet warm and inviting none-the-less. It was a kitchen that was used and lived in, not the picture perfect staged ones he'd seen in magazines. Light was shining through a window. The storm had eased and he could hear the scraping of snow plows a few blocks away.

Kurt took the note off the door, the back of it was an old To Do list with some tasks only partially crossed off. He didn't like cleaning gutters and dejunking garages either. The writing directed at him was a printed scrawl of firm lines. 

"Morning, Kiddo. Carole and I will be at work most of the day. The power came back on and the food in the fridge seems to have survived. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Watch some TV. Wash your clothes. Take a shower. Whatever you need to do. If you leave, be sure to lock the doors, but I'm sure you knew that already. If you need us, just call. Glad you got to sleep out of the storm. Take care, Kurt. ~ Burt."

Kurt's stomach rumbled at the idea of food, but it could wait. There was something else which took priority. Cautiously, he checked the rest of the house, peered out each window, through the front door's peephole, even those in the basement. He made sure each was shut and locked and noted which could be opened quickly should he need to run. 

It was only then that he allowed himself to get breakfast, heating up the stew Carole had left for him on the stove after giving up trying to work the microwave. As he ate, he took a slower walk around the house, noting the decorations on the walls, the framed family pictures, the DVD case left out on the coffee table along with a couple of books and magazines. He snooped in the bedrooms, checking drawers, under clothing and behind boxes in the closets, hoping he wouldn't find signs of hidden perversions and relieved when he didn't. He smiled at Burt's flannel shirt collection. The man did love his grid patterns in soft, durable fabrics. His collection of sports' team shirts and caps was nearly as large. Carole's wardrobe suited her personality and lifestyle. It reminded him of his mom. The prints on her scrubs made him smile. Her patients were lucky to have her. He didn't stay long in Finn's room. For a guy who complained about hybrids' need to mark their territory, his own space reeked of unwashed teenage boy who used too much Axe body spray. 

Before his mind could finally be put at ease, he rechecked the basement. There were no secret rooms, no chains, no restraints, no horrors he'd seen on the crime shows that had been popular viewing at the Reformatory. As if the hell they lived wasn't traumatic enough. 

Finally a bit more at ease, he did another thing he'd been longing to do his entire life. He took a shower with the door locked and in complete privacy. The medicated shampoos and powder Burt had given him were working. Sleeping outside couldn't prevent everything, but the majority of the pests were gone along with the itching. He shampooed twice, enjoying the warmth of the water. Hot water was a luxury he never expected to have. Being able to use as much as wanted, for as long as he wanted, to scrub and rinse and scrub and rinse again until he was thoroughly clean was heaven. And after that, he dried off with soft towels that didn't smell of cigarette smoke, spunk, and too much bleach. 

He dressed in the clean clothing that had been left on his bed. It was cold, the enclosed porch not without its drafts. The long underwear felt a bit weird with its buttoned butt flap and too-large fly, but he wasn't going to complain. 

Kurt then engaged in another fantasy. He washed all of his clothing, including his coat, in the washing machine. It took a couple of loads, but he didn't mind when it meant getting to use proper detergents and a basin that wasn't a dirty recycling bin or K-Mart bathroom sink. He was thankful that Carole used unscented products. He wanted to smell like himself, not April Fresh or whatever the hell an amber blossom was. He dried his clothing too and this time not on top of gnat infested abandoned lots or in a garage that reeked of mice and weed killer. 

For good measure, he washed the bedding he'd slept on last night too. That load was still running when Burt and Carole came home. He jumped off the couch at the sound of the door opening and turned to face them, his eyes darting around to the two nearest exits, worried that he'd over stepped his bounds by using so much water or lounging on their couch.

"Hi, Sweetie, did you have a good day?" Carole smiled as she hung up her coat and set down her bag. 

"Hey, Bud. You okay?"

Kurt didn't know how to answer. This was too much. 

Burt tried again. "We brought home pizza. Don't know what is it about a snow storm, but I always want pizza after it. I got it from the place that welcomes hybrids, not that other one. Are you hungry?"

Kurt nodded. This he knew the answer to.

Outer space could see how tense the kid was, so Burt tried his best to ease his fears. "I'm going to walk by you and put the pizza on the kitchen table. Is that okay?"

Kurt nodded again, ever watchful of Burt's movements. The washing machine beeped, telling all its cycle had ended, and he jumped.

"Oh, good, you were you able to use the washing machine. I told Burt he should write the instructions down in case you wanted to. It took me days to figure out the damn thing and that was with the manual."

Kurt turned to Carole, ears back, and worry clear on his face. "So, it was okay that I did?"

"Why wouldn't it be, Honey?"

His mind was whirling with a dozen reasons that he wasn't sure they'd understand. "Can I go dry it? It's the last load. Promise."

"Of course. Do you want help?"

"No, thank you." He hurried away, his eyes on the couple for as long as he could, until he had to turn around to get the blankets moved over. He was glad he'd already moved his cleaned clothing to the back porch. He'd have access to his coat in case he had to run.

Burt opened up the pizza boxes and held in his sigh. The kid had taken so many steps already, but he still shouldn't have been afraid about washing his clothes. Steps. Little steps. And today had been filled with huge ones. There was no way everything was instantly going to be smooth and easy, let alone normal. 

Carole retrieved a stack of paper plates and napkins. "Help yourself to as much as you want, Kurt. There's pepperoni and supreme in case you wanted some vegetables with your meat." 

"Thank you." 

When the kid still hadn't made a move to get his food, Burt tried again. "Carole and I usually eat in the living room and watch TV. You're welcome to join us or eat in the kitchen or on the back porch or wherever you'd feel safe. We're glad you came inside, Kurt. You do what you feel you're up to, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you." Ever-vigilant, Kurt took a slice of each and retreated to the door that lead to the back porch. It was a comprise. He had a way to escape, while also showing Burt and Carole that he was trying his best to trust them, to get used to all of this newness. He had never expected to do more than sleep on the back porch. He had done so much more today and now in their direct presence, it was overwhelming. 

He took a bite of the pizza. It was hot and cheesy and so damn good; his panic slipping with each bite. Then further when he was encouraged to take more. He stepped closer to the living room, still in the kitchen, but now able to see the TV and the couple bantering back and forth about the commercials that had come on during the show they were watching. 

"I don't understand fabric softener scents, Carole. What the hell is Apple Mango Tango supposed to smell like - people dancing over an overturned fruit cart? Or Floral Fusion. 'The scent features several different flower scents. Which ones? We're not sure. Someone knocked a bunch of them into a vat and we're running with it.' Ted in Marketing must have been drunk that day."

Kurt silently laughed along with Carole. It would be really nice to have this in his life.

The evening continued on in a similar fashion until the dryer signaled his bedding was done. Kurt took his warm blankets and retreated to the back porch. It was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Empty Nest, I'm writing this as I go along. I wanted to live in this verse for awhile long and tell some stories I didn't get to in the previous one. Thanks to all who read the first fic. I hope you enjoy this one too. Thanks to avengerco, my spouse and beta, who gave me Burt's fabric softener lines. I made ONE joke about laundry product scents and he ran with it. :) This chapter was revised on January 28, 2018.


	2. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was only the second day living inside the Hummels' home. Kurt knew it was going to be a struggle for him to trust Burt further and get used to this newness. Outside of the house, his life goes on as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to meet some Glee favorites, or not favorites if that's how you roll. :) TW for non-graphic reference to past childhood non-con. Thanks to avengerco, notenoughtogivebread, margarita-sisters, and girlwitharabbitheart for their chats, encouragement, and help with some of the trickier parts. (Like Ohio football teams.) The meal at the end is based off of the menu of a restaurant in the real Lima that has great online reviews. This chapter was revised on January 28, 2018.

Kurt was startled when he heard the knock on the door that led into the kitchen.

"Is it okay to come in, Bud?"

Realizing his nod couldn't be heard, Kurt vocalized his reply, grateful that such was asked. He had been afraid that he wasn't going to have any privacy. "Yes."

Burt noticed that the kid was already dressed for the weather, standing by the back door, and eating a container of stew Carole had left out for him two days ago. He collected his thoughts, not wanting to say too much. It was a fine line to walk. The kid was damaged in ways he could only guess at. A place to live and a few meals wasn't going to fix everything. Four months ago, a shelter outside and those meals had been a start. Perhaps starting simple again was the way to go. He now had a room inside, a safe place to live, a paid job, and unlimited food. It wouldn't fix everything, but maybe the kid could learn to see that he'd never be left homeless or hurt again. "I brought you waffles for breakfast. Want me to wrap them up for lunch? You can keep them wherever you want, but the kitchen is there for you too, Kurt. We won't take your food away." 

"Thank you. A...a baggie would be nice. I could take them with me, for later."

"You going out today?"

"Is that okay?"

"Of course it is, Kiddo. I came to ask if you wanted to work in the shop, but if you got plans, I'm not going to stop you."

Kurt cast his eyes downward at what he was about to confess. "I didn't help out Mercedes yesterday. I should have. She's too old to shovel her sidewalk and porch steps. And I didn't help you outside either."

"Kid, sometimes you got to take care of yourself first. There's nothing wrong with that. You needed the break. You deserved to have clean clothes and be out of the cold."

"But, I should have helped."

"I'm not so old I can't shovel my own driveway, Kurt. You're a good kid for doing all you do. We don't expect it though. It's not a condition for you living here. Life gave you the shit end of the stick. We're just trying to make something right for you in the world. You deserve it."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"We'll figure this out, Kiddo."

Kurt smiled in return and relief.

"Let me get that baggie for you. Are you going to Blaine's? I can make extra for him. They're frozen and I know how to work the toaster, so it's not a problem."

"No, thank you. He might be by later."

"That's fine. Let him know he's welcome to shower and wash his clothes. If he needs anything, just leave a note on the fridge, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Burt."

"You're welcome, Kid."

* * * * * * *

Bundled in his warmest clothes and coat and looking human-ish, Kurt made his way to Old Lady Mercedes' house. There was a layer of snow on the sidewalk in front and on her porch steps, but not as much as there should have been given the amount that had fallen. Maybe a neighbor had shoveled. He walked to her shed and jimmied open the lock, thankful when no swarm of bees attacked him, and retrieved the snow shovel. He was more than halfway done clearing her pathways when she came out of the house, bundled in a brightly patterned coat, and holding the arm of a young, blonde-haired man.

"Kurt! It's good to see you, Sweetie! Have you met, Sam?"

Kurt eyed the man wearily and pulled the scarves over more of his face, trying to hide his fur from the new human.

The man greeted him with a huge grin. "Nice to meet you, Dude! I'm her new home health aid. Mercedes talks a lot about you. "

"She does?"

"Well, she talks a lot about her husband and you two look alike. She gets confused."

"We do?" Kurt shook his head and tried again. "I mean, I know she gets confused, but not that I looked like him."

"It's all cool." The man beamed at his charge. "She's a sweetie."

"Oh, you!" The woman batted his arm and blushed. She then turned her attention on Kurt. "I made you chocolate snickerdoodles, Dear. Your favorite! I'll be right back."

In an effort not to be heard by Mercedes, Sam leaned in closer to Kurt. "Want me to stop her?"

"No, I don't mind. I'm just wondering if her husband was a hybrid how could she not know he couldn't eat chocolate?"

"I think he indulged her. She's shown me photo albums and videos. Seemed like a great guy. He was wrapped around her little finger."

"She's very sweet."

"It's nice that you help her out."

"Just returning the favor."

Mercedes came back and Kurt pocketed the bag of cookies. "I'd better finish shoveling. Sorry that I wasn't here yesterday."

"It's okay, Sweetie. Sam came by and helped me out." She kissed the man's cheek causing him to blush. 

It was good that she had new help. She deserved it. His time on the streets had been improved by her kindness and generosity, barf-inducing brownies and bee sheds notwithstanding.

* * * * * * *

Kurt made his way to the skating rink. It was a long walk, but he knew he'd have a chance of finding April there. The building had a number of secluded areas one could hide out in to keep warm and it was easy to sneak into whether closed or opened. Plus, the food was greasy and high in calories, exactly what was needed to survive when meals were scarce. 

He found her outside of the employee entrance drinking from a thermos. 

"Well, hello there, Cutie."

"Hi, April."

"How's that boyfriend of yours? Blake? Blue?"

"April!" Kurt looked around, terrified that someone had overheard, or that the woman was spreading things she shouldn't.

"Oh, don't look so scared. Your secret is safe with me. Your honey let it slip when I saw him around Christmas. He was upset that he couldn't get you a present. Did he?"

Kurt thought back to that holiday, trying to hide his grin. "Yes, yes he did."

April put her arm around the blushing boy and handed him her thermos. "You need some liquid courage. It'll help you to be proud of who you are."

Kurt tried to protest, but he knew it was easier to just give in. He took a sip. It was sweet and burned. "This is amazing!" After taking another drink, he remembered why he was there. "I brought you cookies."

"You didn't have to do that. I gots me a job now. I've been working on the manager too if you know what I mean."

Kurt did know what she meant and wished he didn't have the visualization. He took another sip from her thermos.

April dug around in her bag and pulled out a bottle. "Here, you take the last of it. Winter is hard enough."

"That's okay. I don't need it."

"What was one of the first things I taught you? A deal's a deal. Don't give nothin' without getting somethin' in return."

"But you gave me plenty without a trade."

"I don't remember it that way. You fought off that creep who was bothering me at the 7-11."

Kurt didn't feel that was something that had to be repaid, but he accepted the bottle of wine without further protest. 

"Do you need anything else, Kurt? I could whip you up some onion rings and chicken fingers if you vacuum the floor for me. It's gotten a bit wobbly."

Kurt considered the offer. Burt and Carole were feeding him, had been for months now, but Blaine still struggled. He kept denying it, but Kurt knew that look - the hollowness, the smell of pocketed scraps and creatures, the telltale mannerisms around food. "Okay." 

* * * * * * *

On the way back home, Kurt couldn't help himself. He ate some of the onion rings and chicken fingers. They smelled so damn good. By the time he made it back though, the mix of old stew, greasy food, and cheap wine had not settled well and he found himself throwing up in the yard just shy of his shelter. 

A familiar curly haired head poked out of his former sleeping place, "Kurt, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just something I ate. I brought you some food." Kurt proudly held up the plastic bag he was carrying. "I have waffles, onion rings, and chicken fingers."

Blaine pulled himself the rest of the way out of the shelter and retreated a few steps from it. "Um, thank you, but no, thank you."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "We're homeless, Blaine. We eat mice and dumpster leavings out of desperation. The waffles are from Burt and the onion rings and chicken are fresh from the skating rink. I got them in trade from April."

Blaine wrinkled his nose in disgust. "And her favorite chardonnay from the smell of you."

"I only had a few sips."

"Which you just puked out onto that mound of snow." Blaine grinned sheepishly. "Maybe you should rinse out your mouth."

The chestnut furred hybrid laughed. "Fine. Want to go inside? I have my own private room now. It's the back porch, but it's warm."

Blaine rubbed at his arms. It wasn't snowing today, but the bitter winds weren't being kind. "Yes, please! It'll be much better than your shelter. I think that stray cat slept in it last night. It doesn't smell like you anymore. Sorry."

"I'll mark it later...or you can. Just in case things with Burt and Carole don't work out."

"Scary inside?"

"Not really. It's just new. I like them, but..."

Blaine shrugged. "It's hard to trust. I get that."

"I trusted you."

His boyfriend grinned mischievously. "But I'm adorable and you chased me off the first time."

"I was naked, Blaine!"

A huge grin spread across the young man's face. "Oh, I remember." 

Kurt looked slyly at his companion. "Want to go inside and get naked again?"

"With you? Anytime."

He shoved Blaine playfully. "By yourself. Burt said you were welcome to take a shower and wash your clothes."

"Want to join me?"

Instantly, Kurt's jovial mood plummeted and he curled his arms protectively around himself. "Washing up together using sink water was one thing. I'm not ready for the other. I'm not sure I'll ever be. Is that okay?"

Blaine started to reach out, but stopped. "Kurt, I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry that I did."

Relieved, he gave his boyfriend a small smile and tried his best to shake off the bad memories. "Thank you."

Blaine rubbed his boyfriend's cheek. "Kurt, it's okay. No judgments, remember? I'm here for you anytime you need me. Now, can you please show me this magical warm place with machines that do your bidding that you promised. I've forgotten what those are like and my face is about to freeze off."

Smiling once again, Kurt took his boyfriend's hand. With his other, he retrieved his key. Opening the door to the back porch was a little easier this time.

* * * * * * *

Kurt heard the front door open and hastened to sit outside of the bathroom door. It was locked, but with Blaine inside and vulnerable, it was safer this way. He wanted to trust Burt and Carole, but years at the Reformatory and on the streets had drilled into him a lifetime's worth of healthy paranoia. 

"Bud, you don't have to sit on the floor. We told you to make yourself at home. You're more than welcome to use the couch."

"I'm fine."

Burt thought he heard the shower running behind the closed door. "Is Blaine in there?"

Kurt nodded, tense. "You said it was okay."

"Of course it is, Kiddo. Then why..." Burt ran a hand over his face and then his head as he adjusted his cap. The kid was terrified and it wasn't just about being afraid he'd used too much water this time. 

"Kurt, let me make this perfectly clear. No one is going to bother you or Blaine when you're in the bathroom or anywhere else. You're safe here in every way. Got that?"

Kurt nodded, trying to relax, but his body and mind stayed on alert nonetheless. 

"I know it's hard to believe after everything you've been through. And I know it's going to take time for that to sink in. But I swear to you, Kid, I will never lay a hand on you. I will never be inappropriate with you. And I want to kill the bastards that were." Burt closed his eyes for a minute and let out a sigh, trying to think of something else to calm the boy down. "How about I leave and get us some take out? Carole's got a double shift and it'll spare you my cooking. Would that be long enough for Blaine to finish washing up?"

Kurt nodded and let out a small smile. "Thank you...for understanding."

"I'll see you later, Kiddo. Make sure Blaine knows he can wash his clothes too."

"I will."

Burt left without another word, his heart breaking that his and Carole's suspicions had been confirmed. He was angry at the world, furious at the people who would do such things. He wasn't a religious man, but he did know there was a special level of hell for that kind of bastard.

* * * * * * *

Burt made a point of being as loud as he could coming into the house, fumbling with the lock, turning his back to the living room proper as he put down the bags, and then closing the front door. He remained facing it and asked, "Is everyone decent? Kurt? Blaine? You okay with me comin' in? I went grocery shopping to give you boys more time."

"We're okay."

"We're fine, Mister Hummel. Thank you for asking."

Baby steps. That's how this was going to work. Fortunately, this one seemed to have. Relieved that he'd made the right call, Burt picked up his bags and took them to the kitchen. He found the boys at the table, flipping through one of the magazines Carole and Kurt, and apparently Blaine, seemed to enjoy. 

"I've got Moo Goo Gai Pan, Beef with Vegetables, the Bo-Bo Platter for Two which is basically meat and more meat, a couple of orders of pot stickers, and some pork fried rice. I had them hold the broccoli but double up on carrots so Carole wouldn't accuse me of not feeding you right. Sound good?"

"Yes, thank you!"

Burt smiled at Blaine's wide eyes and Kurt's enthusiasm, and then again as his charge retrieved plates and utensils. "Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt returned the smile, "You're welcome."

Letting the boys plate their food and begin to eat before getting his own, Burt started putting away the groceries. "I know you love cheesecake and coffee and hate oatmeal, Kiddo, but it'd be nice to know more."

Kurt paused mid-bite, unsure of where this was going. "Everything has been fine."

"I aint' doubting your appreciation, but you've been living with us more or less constantly for almost half a year now. I should have asked long ago what you actually wanted to eat. And don't say 'anything is fine.' There's no reason for you to hate your meals or eat anything that makes you sick. You're part of a highly intelligent race, Kurt. You're not that stray cat you're always having to chase off. Who, by the way, also wouldn't eat my oatmeal. If there's something you wish you had, food or otherwise, make a list and put it on the fridge. If there's something we have that you'd prefer to have all to yourself, put your name on it. Finn used to do that with the Pop-Tarts and still does even though Carole and I won't touch them. Blaine, that goes for you too. I'm not going to have you go hungry either. No need for you boys to catch mice 'n birds or eat that lady Mercedes' brownies when Carole loves to cook and I...well, I can go grocery shopping and order take out." When Kurt didn't reply, Burt tried a softer approach. "Just think about it, Bud." He reached for a plate and began scooping out some food for himself, making a mental note that the beef with vegetables had gone over the best. "Do either or you boys like football? I think the Browns vs Bengals game is on tonight."

Blaine was the first to reply. "I love football. I used to watch it all the time."

"How 'bout you, Kurt?"

"I know how to play, but I don't really like football...or ham."

"That's okay, Bud. We can find something else to watch if you want. And between you and me, I don't like ham either. Carole's husband loved it though and so does Finn. That's why I always took some and snuck it out to you even before I knew you were...you."

Kurt laughed at the shared secret. "I'm fine reading if you two want to a watch a game. I don't mind."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Kurt grinned with gratitude at the man. He could do this. He could figure this new way of living out. Baby steps.


	3. A Really Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has a really good day. All the happy feels.

Kurt felt like an idiot. It was just a bowl of cereal that Carole had tossed. Not even a full one; only the scattered remnants, soggy in the little puddle of milk that had collected at the bottom. He'd gotten up to go to the bathroom and she, assuming he was done, had scraped the leavings into the trash and put the bowl and spoon into the sink. The very same kind of food bits he used to eat out of their garbage and recycling. Intellectually, he knew he didn't lead that kind of life anymore. The instinctual, emotional, psychologically damaged part of his brain hadn't gotten the message yet. So he'd grabbed the box of cereal and stormed off in a huff, leaving the house and hiding out in the abandoned lot, eating to the point of painful fullness and heaving near someone's prized rose bushes. Come the Spring thaw, they'd be in for an unfortunate surprise. 

Embarrassed, Kurt returned home and placed the box of cereal back in its place. He was going to make this up to her. Seeing the bowl still in the sink, he began loading the dishwasher.

"Kurt, a package arrived for you. It's from Canada."

Curious, Kurt stopped the task and washed his hands before heading into the living room. He took the pair of scissors Carole had brought out, and paused, afraid to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry for before."

"For what? Being normal? I'm the one who should be apologizing. Sweetie, I can only imagine a fraction of what you've been through and I forget sometimes that this is all new to you. I know better, but I forget."

Kurt gave her a weak smile. "I forget sometimes too."

"How about we call it a draw and start the day over? Open up that box and let's see what you got!"

"Okay." He carefully cut open the seals and opened the top flaps. "I don't know anyone in Canada."

"It's from Aunt Anne and Aunt Dani. They said to expect a box, but not to tell you because they wanted it to be a surprise."

The hybrid frowned at the package. "It doesn't smell like cheesecake."

Carole laughed. "It's not cheesecake. I have the recipe though. We can make some this week if you'd like."

"Yes, please!" No longer disappointed, Kurt finished opening the box and removed the layers of bubble wrap. He pulled out four bundles wrapped in white tissue paper which were further protected by plastic bags. "They weren't holding back on the packaging were they?" He liked that Carole laughed at his joke and continued to try and unearth the hidden contents, getting more and more curious by the minute. When at last he had the first item free, he discovered folded layers of the softest deep green cloth. Kurt held the item up and looked closer at the label. This wasn't just a piece of hybrid clothing, this was designer. Maybe not this year's seasons or even last's, but definitely designer. Eagerly he unwrapped the remaining packages, practically dancing with excitement.

Curious herself, Carole inspected each garment after Kurt had. "The girls wanted you to have something of your own. Something new and nice to wear that was made for hybrids instead of Burt and Finn's hand-me-downs. Do you like them?"

Kurt nodded his head with enthusiasm, his eyes wide, and voice a higher pitch from the exhilaration of it all. "This is too much." 

"Oh, Sweetie, I think this is exactly what you needed. New clothes for a new life or fresh clothes for a fresh start if you prefer. Are they the right size? I had to guess. Dani included a gift receipt in case any exchanges needed to be made."

He shrugged and held up one of the shirts to his torso. "I think so. Most of the clothes you've given me have fit, and they look about the same size as the ones I've acquired myself."

"Well go try them on! I'll take some pictures and we'll send them to the girls."

"Okay." Kurt retreated to his room, the bundle of clothes in his hands. This was all so surreal and overwhelming. He knew that in such a small and racist town like Lima, it was too dangerous for Carole to buy him hybrid clothes at the local Walmart. She'd heard of those of his race trying to shop there and getting harassed by customers and staff. Burt had heard similar stories from his hybrid customers who were having to drive hours away or order online, taking the risk of their packages being stolen or messed with. To have something of his own that he didn't make or modify, that wasn't a Reformatory jumpsuit or the castaways of others, that was right out of the pages of Vogue? It wasn't his life. It was a dream he'd only rarely let himself indulge in.

Kurt pulled off his sweatpants, OSU hoodie, and T-shirt, shivering a bit at the chill in the room. He tugged on the pair of pants that were at the top of the pile. The stretchy, thick fabric was woven into a subtle geometric pattern of rich browns and navy. They hugged his legs, butt, and thighs in wonderful ways. The legs were pieced together with extra seams that permitted the greater range of motion for the flexible joints of hybrid physiology. Best of all, the closure at the back was a decorative, practical snap. Finally, no Velcro! Velcro was an evil used by cheap manufacturers who never had their fur ripped off by it, nor cared about the hybrids forced to sew it onto clothing, let alone wear it. 

He chose the matching sweater next. It was just as warm, cozy, and fashionable. Before, he had thought having new underwear was amazing. This was a hundred times better. Wanting to see how he looked in a mirror and to thank Anne and Dani for the clothes, he hurried out of the room, relishing the feel of the fabric against his skin as he moved.

Carole held her hands to her chest, trying and failing to contain her excitement. "Kurt! You look wonderful! Do you like the clothes? How do they fit? Hold still so I can get some pictures."

"I love them." Kurt laughed at her reaction. Carole was an easy person to like. He turned and posed as picture after flash-lit picture was taken. He even allowed her to take a short video of him showing off the clothes and waving at the phone. 

"I think we have enough of this outfit. Go try on the next one!"

Kurt indulged her, not that he minded at all. He only wished that Blaine was here to see him or that he had a way to send him the pictures. There was always an in-person fashion show he could put on for him another day.

He picked up the long-sleeved shirt and pulled it on, loving the slits near the end of the sleeves that he could slip his thumbs through, preventing the length from riding up and offering extra warmth without the need for full gloves. He loved that the hood was without openings for his ears. He hated that some human manufactures, and humans, treated animals and hybrids the same. He could hear just fine and his head was far less cold while covered. Same for snow pants with tail holes. If it wasn't safer to hide his tail and take advantage of appearing human in winter, he'd make his own pants with a sleeve for his tail. Shaking off such negative thoughts, he returned to his present, happy reality. Running a hand along the plush pile of forest green, he discovered that the color changed to a smoky blue. The shirt was the color of his eyes! 

"You alright, Sweetie?"

Apparently, that squeal of delight hadn't been inside his head. "I'm fine, Carole. Almost ready." 

He pulled on the equally transforming chestnut and beige pants. He was wearing himself, without all the horror movie creepiness. 

Kurt's entrance was as well received as the last had been. There was applause, squealing from both of them, and even more pictures taken than before. He permitted Carole to brush the fabric along his arm, surprised that the touch didn't make him flinch. "I think this outfit is my favorite."

"Mine too. Though both suit you well."

"They're amazing. Make sure they know, please. I can't thank them enough."

"There was something else in the box for you."

Kurt's ears perked up in shock. "What?"

Carole unrolled a small flag. The rainbow stripes were familiar to Kurt, but not the one at the top. It was a single stripe made up of smaller vertical ones in black, brown, beige, gray, and white. "They said it's the new symbol of the LGBTQIA+ hybrid community. It started in Philadelphia and has spread to other larger cities in the U.S. and Canada. They picked it up at a store in Toronto."

Kurt took the item with reverence and blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. "There's a flag just for me?"

"There is, Honey."

"This is a really good day."

"You deserve all of them." Carole opened her arms, hoping, but not expecting to be taken up on her unspoken offer.

Kurt leaned into the hug, relishing the comfort it provided him. It was a really, really good day.

* * * * * * *

"Glad you're home, Kiddo. Do you mind comin' into the shop for a couple of hours and trying out those upholstery repair skills? Mike and Tina's kids got into a fight and tore up the backseat of their car. They agreed to be our guinea pigs before we start officially offering the service. I closed up the shop early, so you'll be safe. The guys were happy to take a break."

"Sure. Let me change first."

Burt smiled at the kid's reluctant sigh. "I take it you like the fancy duds Anne and Dani sent you?"

Kurt couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "They're perfect."

"I'm happy to hear that. You look real nice. They suit you. I promise you can change back the minute you get home."

"Okay." Kurt left for his room and returned shortly wearing the most worn and grease-stained clothes he owned. He'd refused the offer of a set of Hummel Tires & Lube uniforms; he was done with jumpsuits forever. A shop T-shirt and pair of sturdy work pants he could handle, but the other brought back too many bad memories. 

He zipped up his coat, tucked his tail under it, and tugged on his hat, gloves, and scarf, ready to leave through the front door and get into the truck, looking as human as possible should any neighbors be about. 

It didn't take long for the pair to arrive at the garage. Burt performing their usual routine of driving into the shop, closing the large door, and making sure all blinds were shut before Kurt left the vehicle and removed his disguise. He found Tina's car easily enough and retrieved the keys from the rack they'd been placed on. 

One thing Kurt liked about Hummel Tires & Lube - it was orderly. The office was a bit of a mess and the shop was greasy, a hazard of the trade, but it was a well-run machine. After his own interactions with Burt in "boss mode," it was easy to see why the majority of his staff had stayed on for years. The man expected you to do your job and do it to the best of your ability. If you didn't know how, he'd teach you, and was always on hand to help out. Best of all, he treated you like you mattered, and that meant the world to him. 

Kurt heard a familiar voice when he was an hour into his work, carefully sewing up the tears so that the stitching couldn't be seen. It wasn't perfect, but it was far better than it had been before. Only if you looked closely could you see where the fabric had been stretched or a knot of thread tied. He sealed up the last of the holes, a bit of work still needed on it, and knotted the end of the thread before snipping it off. He tucked the needle and spools of thread into their case before stopping.

"Hi, Burt. Is the car ready or is your mechanic going to need more time?"

"Let's ask him."

As the footsteps approached Kurt tried to get into a position where he could see their owners as opposed to the odd sprawl he was currently in, wedged between the seats and halfway out the open door.

"Kurt? Is that you? I told Mike I thought I smelled you before, but he said I was imagining things."

Beaming, the previously-scented hybrid maneuvered his way out of the car and hugged his friend.

"You two know each other?" Human and hybrid questioned Kurt in near-unison.

Kurt laughed at them both, replying to Burt first. "Tina used to sneak me pizza when the manager wasn't looking." And then to his friend. "Burt caught me sleeping under his front porch and took me in."

"Aww, that's sweet. I always knew he was good people."

"So were you. I would have starved some days if it weren't for you."

Tina melted at her friend's grateful smile. "It was nothing, Kurt."

"It was everything for someone who had nothing."

"Kurt..." She smiled sadly at the young man before turning a bright smile onto the older mechanic. "I wouldn't have had a car if it wasn't for Burt...and apparently you."

Kurt shrugged the compliment off. "I do what I can to be useful." 

"You do more than that, Kiddo. Nice work on the upholstery. What do you think, Tina?"

"I think you'd never know two boys were fighting over who got the biggest McDouble and most fries from the McDonald's drive thru."

"From the stories Carole has told, it sounds just like Finn and his friends when she'd take them out for a treat."

"So having an onlie child wouldn't have helped?"

Burt shook his head and shrugged. "Nope."

Tina sighed. "Can you build me a giant barrier to separate them?"

Human and hybrids laughed at the shared joke. 

Burt gave her a sympathetic shake of his head and leaned on the car. "Do you mind if I take a closer look at your work, Kiddo? It'll give you two some time to catch up."

"I can redo anything that's not right." Kurt grabbed his sewing kit from the back in order to get it out of the way.

Tina peered inside and brushed her hand along the seat's back and bottom cushions. "Kurt, it looks amazing."

"Thanks, Tina, but if it's not perfect, the customers won't pay. It was my idea and his money, so..." He waved his hand in the direction of the office. "Do you want some coffee? Burt buys the good stuff and I made a fresh pot when I got here." Kurt smiled at the laugh of his overheard enthusiasm. 

"Sure."

As they walked to the other end of the garage, Kurt put a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "I'm sorry that you lost your job."

"Thanks." Tina poured coffee into a disposable cup and imaged her former boss drowning in it. "The owner was a racist ass. Always cutting my hours, changing my shifts at the last minute, making rude comments about 'my kind.' The guy had six kids from four different women, yet I was the over-breeder for having two while married to the same man."

"Hypocrite. I hope his business goes to shit. The Hummels go to the other pizza place now." Kurt fixed his own cup, adding a generous amount of milk and a drizzle of vanilla syrup he'd not so subtly suggested and convinced Burt to buy in order to "make the coffee even better and give the crew a nice sugar buzz." 

"In this town? Wishful thinking if you ask me." Tina blew on her coffee to cool it down. "It was rough for awhile, but I have a good job now. It doesn't pay much, but they only hire hybrids and those of us that homeschool can bring our kids there. Have you heard of Millie & Marley's?"

"No. Should I have?" Kurt set down his cup and wiped his hands on a rag tucked into his back pocket. He'd only done upholstery work tonight and yet still he somehow managed to get grease on them. 

"They've been trying to get the word out to the hybrid communities. Millie and Marley, I mean. They're a mother and daughter that started the store for those afraid to shop in brick and mortar places or needed things that they don't carry. Mostly, it's mail order, but they'll allow you to pick up from their warehouse or will do personal deliveries if you live within a two hour range and pay for gas. Right now most of their business is coming from Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Tennessee, and parts of Pennsylvania. Orders are coming in from all over all though as word gets around. It's not safe to advertise."

Kurt couldn't help his body's natural instinct to flatten his ears and thrash his tail in barely contained anger. "How could they be safe at all around here?"

Tina sympathized with her friend's situation and tried to make her voice sound as reassuring as possible. "They run out of an old farmhouse about an hour outside of Lima and have a human couple fronting for them - Santana and Brittany's Sensual Skin Care. If you click on their cat's ad for Lord Tubbington's Fondue Master Class, it'll lead you to Millie and Marley's."

"I think I know her, Brittany, I mean. She gives Blaine fish sometimes. Blonde hair, pale skin, tells you that you were a dolphin in a past life?"

"She told me that I was a vampiress, daughter to a great ruler of vampires. Maybe it's because of how I dress?" She tugged at the skirt of her long, black, brocade and lace velvet dress. It was warm and stylish without making her feel old and momish. "So who's Blaine?"

Kurt pointed to his faded Hummel Tires & Lube T-shirt and tan work pants and then to his ears arched with the same sarcasm as his voice. "Do I look like a dolphin to you? "

"No, you look like someone trying to avoid a question." Tina gave him a sly look noting the flush on her friend's face when she said the name again. "Who's Blaine?"

"Just a friend." Kurt widened his eyes to appear as sincere as possible, but his nervously twitching tail betrayed him.

Tina hummed. "It's okay, Kurt. Your secret is safe with me. I'm glad you're happy."

"Thanks. I am." He changed the subject as quickly as he could. "So what's the website?" 

"Let me write it down for you." She silently thanked Kurt when he went to the office and brought her out a piece of paper and a pen. "You won't be able to miss their cat. He's...unique."

"Thanks." Kurt took the note, looked at it, then folded it, and stuck it into a front pocket along with the pen. "I'll check it out and spread the word. Most of the hybrids I know don't have money to spare, or money at all for that matter, but it'd be nice to have some essentials that were made just for us. Humans don't get how evil Velcro is."

"Try having kids. Velco is on everything! Even stuff made just for hybrid babies. I'd like the greedy bastards to try explaining to a crying infant caught in the stuff that it was cheaper to use than a couple of snaps or buttons."

"Humans are idiots." Kurt giggled with embarrassment when he heard the gruff clearing of a throat. "But of course, not all of them are." 

Tina laughed, "Of course not. Some are wonderful." She made room for the equally amused human so he could pour his own cup of coffee. "How's my car looking, Burt?"

Burt handed the woman her keys. "You're all good to go. Thanks for letting us work on it. We should be able to offer the service by end of next week."

"Thanks for not charging."

Kurt interrupted the man's reply with a random blurt of his own, holding up his hands and shaking them. "Gloves!"

"What?"

"Put gloves on the kids' hands. That's what my mom said she did with me when I was a baby and then as a toddler when I went through a destructive scratching phase. Two pairs if you have to. They'll learn pretty quick how annoying they are and stop, or at the least will swat at each other and the furniture with less damage."

"That's a brilliant idea, Kurt. I'll try it out the minute they start up again."

"No problem. I hope it works."

Tina tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash bin and gave her friend a long hug. "I have to go, but I'll see you around. I'm glad you're doing better, Kurt. You deserve it."

"You too. Go take the business world by storm."

The woman grimaced. "I fill orders and pack boxes."

Kurt rolled his eyes at her dismissal. "Then take that by storm. And keep the blue streaks in your fur. They look great on you."

"I will. Bye." Tina got into her car and carefully backed out of the shop, after the door was raised for her, offering a quick wave before she left the lot.

Burt waved back and scanned what was visible of the outside, ever protective of the young man standing beside him. "I'm glad that you got to catch up with your friend."

"Me too. She was there for me when..." Kurt wanted to say more, but couldn't bring himself to just yet. It's not as if Burt hadn't heard what he and Tina had talked about. The garage wasn't that big.  
There was more, of course, but wasn't there always? He shook the thoughts off, poured the last of the coffee into his cup, and began cleaning up the machine so that it would be ready for tomorrow morning's shift. 

Burt ran a hand over his head and adjusted his cap, wishing for the millionth time he could offer the boy a hug or simple pat on the back, but knowing that he wasn't there yet and might never be. Words and deeds were all he had. "You ready to go home, Kiddo?"

"Okay. Can I bring my coffee?"

"Have I ever stopped you before?"

"No."

"Then there's your answer." Burt laughed as he pulled on his coat. The kid was something else.

* * * * * * *

Kurt had barely shut and locked the front door behind him when Carole stepped out of the kitchen and started walking towards them, wiping her hands on a towel. The cuffs of her jean jacket were rolled up as were those of the yellow, long sleeved knit shirt she wore underneath it. Her feet were clad in thick, blue slippers, and a spot of tomato sauce had splattered onto her gray sweatpants. He smiled at the momness of it all. It was a comforting familiarity he was enjoying getting used to. 

"How'd it go, boys?" 

Burt kissed his wife on the cheek before removing his coat. "Kurt did great. Seat looked almost brand new."

Kurt grimaced at the praise. He knew every mistake he'd made and areas he wished he'd gone back to improve. "It wasn't that good."

"That's why I said 'almost'." Burt laughed at his joke, glad that his charge took the teasing well.

"How does spaghetti and meatballs sound for dinner?"

"Sounds great, Honey."

"Kurt?"

"It's fine."

"Just fine or you'd prefer something else?"

The hybrid grinned at the woman's "don't lie to me because I can spot bullshit from a mile away" look. She should patent it. "Meatballs are always fine."

Carole laughed. "I'll remember that."

Kurt walked past her, coat and winter gear already stripped off, and opened the door to the back porch in order to hang them up. "Do you need help cooking?"

"Thank you for offering, but I'm good." Carole joined him in the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer until she found the red, black, and clear plastic bag that she'd been looking for. "I thought you knew my secrets by now. Frozen, pre-cooked meatballs, jarred sauce, and boxed pasta. Dinner in thirty minutes or less. Tricks I learned years ago as a single, working mom that remain useful to this day."

Kurt held up his hands. "You'll get no judgments from me. My mom didn't make much from scratch either. Not that I remember. And then there was the food at the..." He cut himself off and retreated to his room. This was supposed to be a good day. He was reluctant to change back into his new clothes, wishing he could shower first, but still uncomfortable doing so when others were around. Returning to the kitchen, still in his shop clothes, he was pleased to see that Carole hadn't taken offense at his abrupt departure. "If you don't need me, can I use the computer to check out an online store for hybrids that my friend works at?"

Carole finished filling a large pot with water and put it on the stove; turning on the gas burner to start heating the water to a boil. "Of course, Sweetie. Do you remember the password?"

"Buckeyeswin42."

"That's the one. Have at it. You know you can use it anytime as long as you follow the rules." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kurt watching her fill a microwave safe bowl with meatballs. She retrieved another and did the same. The kid was hungry, but too reticent to say so. Mentally, she kicked herself for forgetting to feed him lunch. Finn had always been the opposite, always hungry and always willing to say so. Kurt's quietness was different, but at least he'd become more forthcoming in writing down a few things he'd like to eat, even if they so far only included coffee, cheesecake, and protein bars.

"Thank you." He hoped she understood his reply on multiple levels. He knew she knew he was watching her. He liked that she added more meatballs and opened up two jars of sauce. The meatballs were great without a doubt, but having control over how much sauce went on the pasta was a pleasure he'd never realized he was missing. Now he could have as much as he wanted and it wasn't watered down to the point of tastelessness, barely clinging to overcooked noodles. And there was always an open shaker jar of Parmesan cheese too; again, allowed as much as he wanted. This was the way spaghetti was meant to be eaten. 

Kurt pulled his eyes away from the food and walked to the desk in the living room where the laptop was already turned on and a tab opened to one of Carole and Burt's YouTube playlists of 1980's music. While he could freely admit that A-ha's "Take On Me" video was cool, some of the couple's other selections were downright cringe-worthy as were the clothes and make-up. While he could probably rock a knit tie, paisley, and black leather, the neon pastels were a crime against fashion. Carole's continued embracement of denim was at least a look that fit in with the rest of modern day Ohio.

He carefully minimized the tab and brought up a new one. Kurt knew the rules by heart. There weren't many and he wasn't about to go on _those_ sites. When he'd first been allowed on the Hummels' computer, he'd discovered from Finn's not-so-secret files that he'd been a frequent visitor though, and had saved a bunch of videos and pictures. Apparently, the guy had a fondness for human brunettes in lacy, pink lingerie and other things Kurt wished he had brain bleach to erase. And why there was a file called Think of the Mailman, he absolutely did not want to know.

After loading up Santana and Brittany's Sensual Skin Care's page, he was bombarded by more images that he didn't want to see. There was so much human female skin and so many tongues. Why were there tongues on a skin care site? He was too mortified to be triggered. His past hadn't included things like a video of Santana rubbing Lustful Lavender Oil on Brittany's...he wasn't even going to think the name of that body part...that started to autoplay just as Burt walked by. 

"Hey, Bud, I thought we talked about no going to inappropriate sites being one of the rules."

Was dying of embarrassment a thing? Because he was pretty sure that was happening right now. "I wasn't! Not on purpose! I swear!" He fumbled for the piece of paper with the website's address and shoved it into Burt's hand, going back to the computer, and pointing the mouse onto another section of the site. "I'm trying to find the cat. Tina said find the cat and it'll lead to the hybrid site. I swear I didn't know about the other stuff! I don't want to see it either." After discovering that the tab led to pictures of more parts he wished he didn't know the name of, he gave up and clamped his hands over his eyes. This was starting to not be funny.

"Is that it?" Burt tried not to laugh as Kurt opened his fingers just enough to see through a slit in them. 

"You try it. I give up." Kurt shut his fingers and began to hum a random tune hoping to drown out any sound should another video start playing. He stopped when his arm was nudged. 

"Lord Tubbington's Fondue Master Class. That matches up with what the note says."

"But that's not a cat." The creature pictured next to the link surely had to be a genetic experiment gone wrong because not even mixed race hybrid-humans, nor any cat he'd seen, looked like that. 

"Be brave, Kiddo. I'm right here with you."

"Because that makes it less embarrassing." His grumbled sigh turned into one of relief when the real site loaded. It had a simple, easy to navigate layout, and the only videos he'd seen so far were user-choice, G-rated product demonstrations. 

"I'll leave you to it, Kurt, and see if Carole needs any help with dinner."

Kurt directed the mouse over to a promising looking link, praying to gods he didn't believe in, that there would only be thumbnail pictures. "You're going to tell her what happened, aren't you?

"Aw, Kid, I wouldn't be a proper parent if I didn't. Come get me if you need help again. What is it kids say these days? If I die, delete my browser history."

"Very funny." He accepted the tease with the fond humor of which it was intended, and focused his full attention on the site. For such a small company, he was amazed at all that was offered - everything from skin and fur care products to clothing and foodstuffs.

Kurt checked out the personal care section first. He longed for the more expensive creams, shampoos, conditioners, and other toiletries, but settled on the cheapest ones. Basic was fine if it meant he could buy a pair of quality boots made for hybrid feet, which was the section he checked out next. 

He longed for footwear that was his size and meant for hybrid physiology. No more cramming his feet into human shoes and stuffing them full of paper or rags to fit. Or the same with tossed or purloined hybrid footwear that was always too big or too small. He'd had to go without for months after escaping from the Reformatory and getting attacked, yet again, by Lima's roving gang. The rich brown, leather boots he chose weren't the most expensive nor cheapest, but they were highly rated. That they'd fit and would compliment his new clothes was the biggest draw. 

He looked at grocery section next. The Rooster O's cereal looked promising, though the product description didn't say if they were chicken flavored or not. The deer jerky was locally made, but too expensive to waste money on. If he honestly wanted deer meat, there were ways of getting it within the homeless community. Burt sometimes accepted it in trade as well. This was rural Ohio after all. The cookie varieties looked good though, as did a cookbook entitled, "Cooking for Mixed Families." It promised "dinners and desserts everyone can enjoy, from hybrid to human."

He moved on to the clothing department and immediately added a package of underwear and socks. He would always be more than grateful for the briefs Carole had given him, but these had a fastener at the back and the edge of the cut-out "U" for the tail was edge-stitched for comfort. There wasn't that weird, folding fly in the front that humans preferred either. He added another package and two packages of socks. Blaine deserved a good day too. 

Kurt looked at the total in the cart. It was nearly half of what he'd made working for Burt. More than he wanted to spend, but nothing he couldn't easily justify buying. He had the money. The new clothes from Canada had made him realize how much he missed wearing clothing that was designed for his race. 

His one splurge was a happy, yet sad one. It was a bow tie print graphic tee that reminded him of one he'd gotten for his fifth birthday. He had always wanted a bow tie, but of course they didn't have the money to spare. So his mom had a taken a black marker and carefully drawn him one on a plain white T-shirt, then added little buttons to the front. "Now you can be a proper young gentleman during our tea parties, my sweet Kurt." 

Kurt turned back to the grocery section and added a box of tea and tin of hybrid safe cookies. "In honor of you, Mom." He wiped away his tears and looked at the total in his cart. It was higher than before, but he felt his mom would have approved. Smiling, he retrieved some money from one of the hiding places in his room, glad it was enough so that he wouldn't have to venture out into the cold for more from another spot. 

Burt looked up from the TV to see Kurt with the money in his hand, "You ready, Kiddo?"

"If you wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I did. You don't have a credit or bank card. I do. It's your money fair and square to do with as you please. Why don't you go change and get ready for dinner while I take care of it."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem, Bud."

Burt pulled the credit card out of his wallet before sitting down at the computer. The shopping cart's total wasn't much, not nearly enough given what this kid really needed, but it was a lot of money for someone who had previously had none. He noticed the Suggested for You items as well as the Wish List Kurt had set up. If the kid secretly longed for higher quality skin and fur care products, he was going to get them, along with extra undergarments and hybrid specific foodstuffs. The new items nearly doubled the total, but it didn't matter. The kid was going to get what he deserved, not just what he needed. As for the money he'd been handed, it was going into a secret savings account. One day Kurt would be off on his own again and need it. No way was he going to make the boy pay for things he'd freely given to Finn. Kurt was like a second son to him now and had been for awhile. A pair of boots, some jars of fancy cream, and a handful of new clothes wasn't going break the bank and was the least he could do. He and Carole could never replace his mom, but they could give him a home and a family again.

* * * * * * *

Blaine arrived just as dinner was being served, softly knocking at the back door. It was Kurt who heard it first and let him in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You're just in time for dinner."

"Oh, I didn't know you were eating. I can leave." Blaine began to re-button his coat and turned back to the door that led to the porch.

Carole would have none of it. "Sweetie, you know you're always welcome. There's more than enough. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?"

"I love meatballs!"

Carole laughed. "You and Kurt both. Go have a seat in the living room and I'll get you a plate."

"That's okay. I can get my own."

"And you'll take too little swearing it's enough. I already raised one teenager, Blaine. You and Kurt will never fool me. A parent knows when their kids are hungry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Humm...Carole."

"You're welcome."

Blaine left to join his boyfriend, immediately noticing his new outfit. Kurt put his plate down and preened, spinning to show off every side, describing every detail. Even though he rushed to his room to retrieve his second set of finery, he stopped short of a full fashion show. The smirk on Blaine's face was enough to express the thoughts between the two of them - a more thorough inspection of the clothes and how well they fit on Kurt's body would come later when they were in private.

For once, Kurt ate as neatly as his boyfriend, not wanting to spill a drop on his clothes and using a dishtowel as a bib. Normally, he was a "shove it in quickly before anyone could steal it" kind of guy, though he was trying to break himself of the habit now that he was in safer company and food more readily available. He stopped just barely at the point of fullness, begging off wanting seconds, and gave his remainder to Blaine who needed it more. While he may be guarded around his food, he couldn't stand to see his boyfriend suffer. 

Carole, having a rare night off, got to choose the programs they watched. The first was a forgettable comedy that everyone seemed to ignore while eating and chatting about their days. She and Burt exchanged heartfelt smiles, proud of the progress Kurt had made. After two weeks of standing in the doorway watching TV with them, Kurt was on the couch. The edge closest to the kitchen, but still actually on it, curled up with his boyfriend. Only on occasion did he glance around furtively, checking for danger and the best way to escape should it appear. Burt continued to give the boy his space, relaxing in his favorite recliner. Carole tested the brief closeness she'd shared with him today, asking, and receiving permission, to sit on the other end of the couch. They were slowly becoming a family, same as when she and Finn had moved in with Burt. Now it included a beautiful, broken boy, who needed a new one, of which she was more than willing to provide if for. Raising kids was much more gratifying than feeding a stray cat, even if she had to stop herself from teasingly calling Kurt Mister Fluffy Pants from time to time. His loathing of that cat was understandable, if not at times amusing.

The second program they watched was a reality show that seemed to be a cross between The Real Housewives and Survivor. She exchanged secret laughs with her husband at the boys' incredulous faces and snide remarks. 

"What kind of idiots did they sign on for this show? That's not how you catch lunch. They're too loud and their aim is clumsy. You need stealth, patience, and a quick blow."

Blaine readily agreed with his boyfriend. "Hope they like eating tree bark because that's all they're going to catch at this rate."

"I've told you a hundred times, Blaine. Humans are id...not as skilled as hybrids at instinctual survival skills." Kurt took another bite of his spaghetti, pointedly not looking at his human benefactors' reaction to his faux pas. He was relieved when there was a costume change after the commercial. "I wore a drab olive and orange jumpsuit most of my life. Trust me, Honey, orange is not the new black, no matter your race." 

Blaine chose a different outfit to sneer at, "I always thought Dalton's blazers should have been red with blue piping. How wrong I was. That is not a good look."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head and his tail slashed with fury. "Hybrid stripes! Racist much? I wouldn't wear a pelt of hairless tan skin."

Blaine squinted at the TV. "I think that's from an animal a cameraman caught on the island."

Still not placated, the hybrid growled low in his throat. "It better be."

Blaine tried to lighten his boyfriend's mood, pointing out a couple that had just appeared on screen. The heat of the tropical setting seemed to be affecting the inhabitants' sense of decency in more ways than one. A balding man that couldn't have been more than thirty opted for a coconut shell codpiece as his only form of clothing. A choice the censors were having trouble blurring out. Blaine swore he'd seen more nuttage in the past half hour than a squirrel, and he was gay and had a boyfriend. The woman he was with hadn't done any better. The reverse Dalton blazer was bad enough as it was, but cut up and used as a loin cloth with the matching tie not covering her breasts in the least? This was surely going to scar him for life because worst of all, she looked a lot like his mom. "Those two fight just like my parents. Five bucks says she wins."

"You don't have five bucks, Blaine." He tried not to stare at the atrocities before him, but couldn't help himself. At least it wasn't as bad as what he'd seen earlier on the computer.

"Figurative money."

With a lilting tone, Kurt teased a retort as the scene ended. "Shouldn't have said that because I do and the guy won."

Blaine turned to question his partner's viewing comprehension skills. "No, he didn't. Her girlfriend broke up the fight. We both lose."

Kurt patted his boyfriend's arm and shook his head in woeful dismay. "I think everyone watching this show looses, Honey."

The rest of the evening was the spent in much the same way of mindless TV and snarky commiseration at the letdown television programs had become, even if they did secretly enjoy them. That was until the news came on featuring a story about a group of hybrid rights activists being attacked by Pure Race Nationalists while the police stood idly by. Blaine's eyes grew wide with fear while Kurt tensed with barely constrained anger. That this was just the latest of incalculable injustices being made against hybrids was upsetting to all and unfair to the two boys and the millions like them.

Burt reached for the remote and turned the TV off. 'You know, I think it's time for bed. Blaine, you're welcome to stay in Kurt's room. Just, you boys be careful. Nothing too enthusiastic. Air mattresses aren't cheap and I'd hate for it to burst." The boys mortally embarrassed, blushing faces and stammered replies as they scrambled out of the room was just the reaction he'd hoped for in order to lighten the mood. He could hear Carole stifling a laugh behind her cup of tea. Some days parenting was easy and embarrassing your kids was one of the perks.

* * * * * * *

Kurt and Blaine snuggled under the covers, fully clothed, and too aware of every sound coming from the main part of the house to do more than a little light kissing before settling in to sleep. Kurt pulled his boyfriend in closer, his left arm and tail wrapped firmly around him. The room was lit in spots from moonlight peeking in through the edges of the curtains.

Though the back porch was still little more than a storage area and mud room, he was beginning to think of it as his room and becoming more used to the idea of the Hummels' house as his home. He felt like maybe he could fit in here. Carole had forgiven him quickly over the cereal incident and treated him like a son. Burt had shown him only kindness and was giving him more responsibility at the shop. He'd never known his biological dad and the feeling he'd gotten from his mom, was that it was a good thing. She hadn't dated either. So even though he'd never had a father-type figure, Burt felt right as one. Neither of them pushed him beyond what he was ready for. They respected his need for privacy, space, and independence. And most comforting of all, they accepted his and Blaine's relationship fully. Kurt fell asleep staring at the hybrid pride flag he'd hung on the wall. Maybe there was hope for his future after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to notenoughtogivebread for hashing things out with me and offering inspiration. To avengerco for being my beta. To all those who have left kind comments, kudos, and hits - you keep me going. :) On a more somber note, the brown and black striped pride flag is an important symbol in our home because of our gay, POC son. It felt right to include a hybrid version in this story. Parts of this story are those of my family, not just that of the stray cat who likes to take shelter under our porch. This chapter was revised on January 28, 2018.


	4. A Really Bad Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that one really great day, everything starts to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence/assault and dubious consent to mild, not-sex touching. This chapter was revised on January 29, 2018.

\-------------------------

Kurt was having a very bad week, and like his really great day, it had started with a fight over food.

Saturday morning, he'd walked into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and wanting nothing more than coffee and a bowl of cereal. The cereal that he'd bought with his own money. The cereal that he and Blaine had fun making dick and gay jokes about. "Do Rooster O's taste like chicken or cocks?" "Or maybe a chicken's cock?" "Cock a doodle me do!" And those were the tame ones. The cereal that Finn had just emptied into a mixing bowl the size of his head. "What the fuck? That's mine!"

The human pulled the bowl away before Kurt could snatch it. "Sharing is caring, Dude."

Furious, Kurt went into the fridge and dug out a brown paper bag filled with smaller, clear baggies. He tossed one into the cereal bowl. "Sharing is caring."

"What the fuck? That's gross!"

Carole yelled from the other room as she hurried in. "Boys, what's going on?"

"Kurt just dropped a mouse into my cereal."

"It's my cereal, Finn!"

"It doesn't have your name on it."

Kurt was having none of his bullshit excuses. "You weren't supposed to be here!"

Carole tried her best to diffuse the argument and get to the root of the problem. "Kurt, Sweetie, why are you still catching mice? I thought we told you that you could have all the food you wanted."

"Blaine's not getting enough to eat. He shouldn't have to make out with Rochelle to get food and he's afraid of fire. It's not right! You have a whole garage full of mice. I catch them and cook them in the oven when you all aren't home."

"That gross! We could like, catch a disease or something. Tell him, Mom!" Finn jumped up from the table, backing far away from the rodent. 

"I'm not an idiot, you moron! They're dead and I wash them first. And I line the pan with foil. I also wash my hands...unlike some humans I know." Kurt wished his pointed glare would burn through Finn's skull. 

He had to settle for Carole's hushed, "I taught you, better, Finn!"

"It's still gross!"

"And you're still stealing my food!"

Carole tried again. "Kurt, you don't have to catch mice for Blaine. Our offer of food extends to him too."

Kurt shrugged the response off. A meal here and there was nice, but it wasn't enough. They didn't understand what it was like out there. "Only when he's here."

"No, Honey, any time. I thought you knew that."

"No."

"It does."

He chanced a glance at Carole, not wanting to let his guard down around Finn. "Fine. Okay. Thank you, but he still took my food." 

"I didn't know it was yours. What does it matter anyway?"

"Because I paid for it." Kurt grabbed the bowl of cereal off the table and dumped it back into the box, thankful that milk hadn't been poured into it yet. "Because I caught it." Kurt stuck the mouse back in the paper bag. He went over the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the other things he'd bought, filing up his arms. "And I bought this...and this...and this..." He went to the fridge next, pulling out his saved leftovers from last night's dinner and dessert. "Because Carole and I made cheesecake and she said this half was mine." He shook another container from the fridge at him. "This is mine!" The table now piled with boxes, cans, and Rubbermaid containers, he grabbed some plastic grocery bags from under the kitchen sink and filled them up with his food, storming into his room and slamming the door behind him, giving one last furious, "They're mine!" 

As Kurt put on his coat and boots, he could hear the two humans' conversation through the door. 

"Finn, we talked to you about Kurt's food insecurities!"

"I was just hungry, Mom! Shouldn't he be over that by now?"

"He may never be over it, Finn. You've never been without a meal your entire life. If you were hungry, you were given or bought food. Kurt's never had that. All he's known is that any meal may be his last for a long time. It changes a person. No one touches Kurt's food. That's the rule. And since when did you start eating Rooster O's? They're chicken flavored. I thought you liked Sugar Fruity Squares."

"Who eats chicken cereal? That's weird."

"Anyone who likes chicken. He let me try a piece. They're not bad." Carole finally brought the discussion around to the second most pressing matter. "What are you doing home, Finn? Spring Break isn't until next month."

"Rachel wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day in person. She said it wasn't the same over Skype."

Kurt didn't wait to hear anymore. He didn't need to hear about Finn's sex life nor Carole's explanations about how fucked up his life was, even if she did have good intentions. He finished putting on his winter gear, shoved as much of his food into the knapsack as would fit, hid the rest around his room, and headed outside. Fuck Finn and his stealing ways. Fucking food hog. And no one should be that tall! It wasn't natural.

* * * * * * *

Blaine wasn't home when Kurt arrived at the abandoned K-Mart. He hadn't been there in at least an hour given that the book wedged between the door was covered in a light dusting of snow. He removed the pencil he kept in his knapsack and added a small hash mark beside the one already beside the "MG" of the "BS + MG" heart that had been carved into the paint below the loading bay's platform. It was their way of letting the other know where they were. MG stood for Meijer's Grocery, BS - Breadstix. There was other graffiti they'd written too. An erasable pencil mark next to "Skaterboy Rocks" meant the skating rink where April Rhodes was hanging out. "7 days in hell" was the 7-11. "WFM 98.3," the call numbers of a popular radio station, meant "wait for me." A lone wheel was Hummel Tires & Lube. If there was a small square drawn next to it, it meant the Hummel's home. It wasn't a perfect system, but without the means to get Blaine his own cell phone and with Kurt's only supposed to be used for emergencies, it was the best they could do. Handwritten notes could be found, blown away, or ruined by weather. No one paid much attention to badly drawn street art. 

Kurt adjusted his knapsack and made the trek to the grocery store. It wasn't a terribly long walk, but he hated being exposed during the daylight hours in the commercial district, covered up thoroughly or not. He found Blaine behind the store waiting for his turn at the waste bins. The guy was too polite. Manners and customs were different out here than they were in a prep school and wealthy society. How he'd survived this long, he honestly didn't know. But the juvie schooled, street smart kid did know that someone watching your back meant protection and an extra set of eyes to help you find the good stuff, or at least the "It won't kill me if I eat it" foods and other vital necessities.

After only the briefest of nods of acknowledgment and a tiny smile to his boyfriend, Kurt walked up to the dumpster and peered inside. His eyes confirmed his nose's suspicions. "Brett, go back to the 7-11. Your people miss you."

"Woah, there's like three of you."

Kurt looked around him, spotting no one else aside from Blaine, and decided to go with it. "Yes, yes, there are. Now go before we call the narcs."

"No need to get snippy." Brett trailed off when he saw something shiny. "Hey, I could totally turn this into a bong. Wanna trade it for a banana?"

"Sure." Kurt accepted the over-ripe fruit and Brett picked up the object of interest, beaming glassy-eyed as he attempted to climb out of the dumpster. 

After a few tries, the stoner's limbs finally cooperated and he strolled away with a mumbled, "Later, Dudes."

Kurt turned in the direction of the cardboard recycling container. "You're up, Blaine. Do you want to be the searchee, the lookout, or have us both go in to make it faster?"

"Um..." Blaine looked at the sky. The clouds had become more ominous and the snow had started falling faster. "If you don't mind can we both search?"

The hybrid sighed and crossed his arms, impatience clear on his face. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to help."

Blaine looked warily at his boyfriend. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit...snippy. Did I do something wrong? Did something happen?"

"Bad morning. I'll tell you later." He gave Blaine an apologetic grin. "It's not you. Promise." Kurt pulled himself up and into the dumpster, offering a hand to his boyfriend. "Shall we?"

Blaine accepted the help up and together they began their search of finding the source of Brett's brown-spotted bananas in a pile of plastic wrapped packages containing other over-ripe, unsellable produce. It was a great find. Rare too as such was usually the first to go.

Blaine looked into a smashed box of previously frozen White Castle hamburgers. They smelled off, but there was "off" and "curled up for a week wishing you'd die" off. He put them aside in hopes that it was the former. The opened but unused toothbrush was a good find. He could trade it for something. Not a big something, but if he combined it with other things he could trade it for toothpaste. He still had the toothbrush Burt had given him, but was out of toothpaste and didn't feel comfortable asking him for more. Kurt lived with the Hummels, not him. He felt he was taking enough from them as it was with the meals, sleepovers, washing of his clothes, and warm showers. Someone had stopped paying the water bill at the abandoned K-Mart and he'd been without for a few weeks, making him feel worse about needing to use their utilities more often. He longed for the day when he had money for hair gel again. 

"Do you need any cleaning supplies?" Kurt held up a gallon jug with an inch of disinfectant fluid sloshing around in the bottom. 

"I'm not sure I feel like carrying that back to my place."

"Fair enough. I'll put it in the maybe pile." Kurt's ears picked up the sound of multiple voices and he instantly went on alert. "Blaine. We have to go. Now."

Blaine knew that tone and hastily pocketed the remainder of the finds he'd put at his feet. He helped Kurt get out first, his boyfriend's tail having become untucked from his pants and caught between the wire rods of a broken shelf. 

They were barely out when Kurt saw the first members of the hybrid lead gang. There were seven of them, the two largest in the front. Those two, Karofsky and Azimio, were the ones Kurt was afraid of the most. They had been favorites at the Reformatory and made his life more of a hell in there because of it. Kurt assumed they'd aged out shortly after he, Puck, and Quinn had escaped. How they managed to take over the gang of human McKinley High puckheads he'd first encountered shortly after becoming homeless, he didn't know. Being beaten up by the original five had been bad enough. When Karofsky and Azimio had joined in their idea of fun, he'd nearly died. 

To say that they terrified him was an understatement and he'd tried to instill that fear in Blaine. "Run!"

Kurt and Blaine ran, faster than they ever had before, lungs heaving on the cold air, booted feet slipping on the snow and ice. One of their would be attackers caught the fabric of Kurt's coat sleeve. He managed to yank it away, ready to throw a punch if necessary. All his energy and focus was on getting away, dodging down side street after side street and through the yards of the impoverished homes that bordered the grocery store.

Kurt didn't know how they managed to evade the gang, but they did. Both heaving for breath as they slowed their pace, trying to appear like two regular guys out for a walk in the snow, running an errand. As they passed the grade school, they silently agreed on where to go to next. With no one at the front desk, they managed to slip into the library unseen and headed straight for the back of the reference section. 

Secure in the ironic knowledge that few ventured near the history books, they tried to catch their breaths and slow their hearts. Kurt focused on things that were real and recited them off in his head, a technique he'd once found in a psychology book to help him get through panic attacks. "That is a book. That is a shelf. That is the ugliest carpet I have ever seen. That is my boyfriend quietly singing Katy Perry songs. And that is his hand in mine." 

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand back and offered a sympathetic look, his brow furrowed, his shoulders high, his eyes full of sorrow for the hell that they had been through and the struggles that filled their lives. None of this was fair or deserved. They had done nothing wrong but be born - the wrong race and the wrong orientation into a world that only wanted to cause them pain.

Just as they managed to calm down and regain their wits, they saw Her - the head librarian. The one with the hate-filled bumper stickers on her car next to the ones proclaiming that "Jesus Saves!" and "God is My Co-Pilot." They covered their faces and bodies as best as they could and tried to casually stroll out of the library - just a couple of humans, nothing to see here. They almost got away with it. They weren't exactly chased out the last few feet, but they were berated with a string of graphic racial slurs yelled at such a volume that the kids in the children's section, the ones the woman swore she was trying to protect, surely heard.

* * * * * * *

Giving up on scavenging and wanting to get out of the weather, Kurt and Blaine decided to head back to Blaine's. The loading bay was cold, freezing to be honest, even in the nest of old clothes and blankets. The comforter Kurt had brought over the week before wasn't making a dent either. Desperate to warm up and get their blood going, they tried to have sex. Try being the operative word.

"Blaine, as much as I love you and want this, if I don't tuck my dick back into my pants, it's going to fall off or freeze to yours. And no, freezing to yours and creating a big dicksicle is not a good thing."

"I said nothing!"

"You were thinking it."

Blaine blushed at how well his boyfriend knew him and came up with a different plan. "We could try handjobs with gloves on?"

Kurt couldn't help but to burst out laughing. "Well, that gives new meaning to the phrase, 'No glove, no love.' Try it."

It didn't work. There was too much half-melted snow trapped in the knitted yarn. "I feel like I'm being jerked off by Frosty the Snowman."

Blaine didn't know if he should be offended, embarrassed, or find the lament hilarious, so he ended up doing all three via an awkward laugh. 

"How about I focus on you? My gloves are fleece and you deserve a turn."

"Okay." Blaine threw his head back, enjoying the first few strokes, moaning from the pleasure until a tear in the leather on the palm of the glove snagged on the tip of his cock. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Please stop."

"Sorry." Kurt pulled his hand away, frustrated for them both. He was just as horny as his boyfriend. "Ohio winters suck."

"That they do."

His complaint gave him an idea, not a good one, but it would work. "I could..."

Blaine knew what his boyfriend was about to say and that his body language was expressing the exact opposite. "Kurt, we agreed - nothing that makes either one of us uncomfortable. Neither of us want to use our mouth and you never want to bottom. Without lube, condoms, and a better way to clean up, I'd prefer not to either right now."

Kurt pulled Blaine in for a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too. How about clothes back on and we make out instead? I'd really hate for your lovely dick to fall off."

"Me too." He laughed at the smirk the comment awarded him. "Yours too of course."

"Of course." 

Kurt wiggled and tugged until he was back in his long underwear and baggy cargo pants. "You just want to see me in camo."

"It's a total turn on. Very American boy."

Kurt helped his boyfriend into his own thermal wear and outer layers. "So is this eagle clutching an American flag superimposed over a skull tee. Where in the world did you find such a monstrosity?"

"I think it was here."

"No wonder the store closed down."

Now fully, if not fashionably, dressed and much warmer, they returned to kissing. Kissing that was becoming more frantic now that important body parts weren't in danger. Rutting against each other with so many layers between them wasn't nearly enough friction. Determination and well-placed kisses on necks however, compensated nicely enough that soon they were both cuming. 

"And now my cum and sweat is freezing to my body."

"Want to do it again anyway?"

"Absolutely!"

* * * * * * *

Aside from sex and singing, which also wasn't as fun in this cold, their days had become increasingly boring. Kurt's Vogues and educational books were back in his room, and neither of them had been able to find any new hybrid romance novels to read. Blaine knew they were out there, but his searches had proved fruitless. He'd read "Hybrids on the High Seas," "Walk My Plank," "Shiver Me Timbers," "Coming in for a Landing," and "Docking Maneuvers" so many times they were practically memorized. He really wanted the one where the couple were a superhero and supervillain that have wild sex at every crime scene, "Coitus in Capes." While Kurt was hoping for the one where Noah is a lawyer and Lauren is a judge, "Jump Me for Justice." Giving up on searching the Goodwill, where Blaine had found the other novels, Kurt tried his hand at writing a musical for the horny hybrid couple's outrageous adventures and anatomically impossible sex, but he just wasn't feeling it, and honestly, neither was Blaine.

They ran out of food on Day 3 and on Day 4 had no choice but to go searching for more. Kurt berated himself and apologized to Blaine. For the past few months, his stomach had become used to more food now that it had been routinely fed three meals a day plus snacks anytime he wanted them. He had tried his best to eat less, but it obviously wasn't enough. With a sigh and curse of regret, he wished he'd kept up his supply of glucose tablets. It was a trick he'd discovered early on. The tubes of them were easy enough to steal and the energy boost would keep him going for a little while. They were the next best thing to protein and granola bars.

Kurt heard his cell phone ring at least once during that time. He felt bad because he was supposed to work at the shop. Any of the crew could handle the regular tasks, but Burt couldn't do upholstery repairs without him and he'd made that commitment. He was stupid for not being brave enough to return to the Hummels' home because Carole at least understood. He had tried once, entering through the back door, but quickly left. The house had smelled too much of Finn and he wasn't ready to deal with him or the consequences of the scene he'd caused. So he had left, not even taking the food left out for him nor his stash of money. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. On top of it all, the loose boards at the back of the garage were iced shut, so he couldn't even catch the mice that lived there.

They walked to Breadsticks first as it was the closest. Even the outside of the building was decked out in a Valentine's Day theme. Kurt rolled his eyes. Not only were the red and pink hearts gaudy, but in this political climate, the only kinds of accepted love were human and heterosexual. He and his boyfriend weren't either. Blaine however, was an optimist and refused to be anything but giddy at what he felt the holiday represented. No matter which way it was, at least it meant there would be a high chance they could score some food from either one of the restaurant's staff or its dumpster. 

Rochelle wasn't on shift, but Chandler was. Kurt tried not to flinch as he was flirted with. It was funny the first time on his and Blaine's date, but now that he realized the guy wanted more than just friendship, it was different. Chandler didn't do anything overtly sexual. The boy was just a shy, sweet, and innocent teenager with a crush, thinking the cute boy he liked, liked him back. 

For Kurt though, it was different, and not just because he already had a boyfriend. He was far from innocent and inexperienced. He knew that by letting Chandler stroke his arm and cheek, hold his hand, and place a chaste kiss on his mouth that he was exchanging intimacy for goods and services, for enough food to keep himself and Blaine from starving. He had thought those days were behind him. Not just the years at the Reformatory, but the nearly two on the streets, where sometimes he had been so desperate that he had traded "personal services" with the cashiers who worked the 3 am shift at the 7-11. What he'd told Blaine hadn't been a rumor. It was firsthand knowledge. Repulsed at being touched and knowing full well he would likely have to submit to such and worse again, he bid Chandler a good night and thanked him for the food. When the boy had gone back inside, Kurt walked over to Blaine, who had been hiding in the shadow of the dumpster, and handed him the bag of chicken parmesan and "those roasted potatoes I know you love, Kurt," too nauseous to eat.

They knew one meal wouldn't last long, so they tried the Applebee's across the street. The dumpster was as empty as the Lima Bean's next door. Kurt whimpered at the smell of roasted coffee. He missed it so much. Seeing a garbage truck emptying waste from another place, they gave up on the restaurant district. If a couple of chain and local eateries could be called a district. 

It started snowing again, too hard and heavy for them to try and make it all the way to the bowling alley. They headed to Mercedes' house next, looking for work. As he'd told Burt a few times, brownies and hot chocolate that made you puke were better than nothing to eat at all. Unfortunately, the sidewalks and driveway had already been cleared, most likely by Sam. It was great that the elderly woman had someone looking out for her and the guy had been nothing but nice to him. Still, the lost meal was distressing.

Why he didn't return to the Hummels again, Kurt didn't know. At least he tried to pretend he didn't. He was ashamed for blowing up and scared that he would be rejected. He didn't think Burt and Carole would call the cops and have him sent back to the Reformatory, but he couldn't imagine them welcoming him back with open arms. Not after all they did for him and how he had yelled at their son - even if Finn had been an idiot. He refused to back down on that. It was an entire box of cereal for crying out loud! Four days worth of food for him and Blaine, longer if they stretched it. Gods, he was hungry. And an exhausted, stupid, fucking chicken, piece of shit moron who had screwed over not only himself, but the guy he loved. And yet he still couldn't bring himself to walk the two blocks to the home that had offered him refuge.

Disappointed, they headed to the 7-11. They'd barely reached the back lot before they were chased off by a couple of drug dealers and prostitutes. With the early darkness the time change had caused and lacking a watch, Kurt hadn't realized he and Blaine had stumbled into their busiest time of the week. The time when the businessmen, flush with their paychecks and stressed from work, were looking to score both a way to cope with their lives and a warm body to have a dirty fuck with in order to forget their wives. 

* * * * * * *

They went back to Blaine's. The snow was near-blinding now, whipping around in a fury. It was hard to smell in this cold, but neither thought anyone had been there. The book seemed to be in place, but Blaine wasn't sure. He was just so cold and tired and begged Kurt to let them go in. That was their second worst mistake. The first was missing barely covered footprints leading up to the loading bay. Maybe, maybe given the winds and slush covered ground, it could be forgiven, but the mistake would cost them dearly.

One of the few things Kurt remembered from that night was opening up the bay's large, metal door and seeing all seven of the gang members there, waiting, laughing. Why were they laughing? The homophobic slurs didn't bother him so much as the laughter. Why Karofsky wouldn't leave him alone, he didn't know. They were both out of the Reformatory. He assumed they were both also homeless. It shouldn't matter anymore, but apparently it did. Kurt could guess why, but couldn't confirm it, and never wanted to get close enough to the Neanderthal to ask.

The attack began almost immediately after that. Blaine wasn't a lightweight, having taken up boxing at Dalton, but Kurt had more experience at real fighting and he fought dirty. Despite their combined skills, they still got the shit beaten out of them. The pain was something neither of them would forget.

There was a hard fist slammed into Kurt's gut that his coat only partially padded. A punch to his face connected far harder. Kurt fought back with everything the Reformatory had taught him. What he hadn't learned was how to keep his balance after landing a kick to his attacker's groin. The momentum had sent him falling back, slipping on the ice. That was his third mistake. 

He screamed for Blaine. His boyfriend was fighting back just as hard, but there were too many against too few. It didn't take long before both of them were overwhelmed and knocked to the ground. It did take a long time before their attackers got bored of kicking them and left. There was blood mixed with the slush and snow. Kurt wasn't sure whose it was as he reached a shaking hand deep into the layers under his coat and pulled out his cell phone, relieved that it wasn't broken and still held a charge.

He pulled up the first number on the Contacts list and barely managed a croaked out, "Help. Please. Blaine's." He passed out after that. One hand cradling the phone. The other stretched out, trying to reach his boyfriend laying motionless a few feet away.

Kurt awoke to the sound of truck tires, terrified until he heard a rough, scared voice calling out his name. He tried to reply, tried to move, tried to sit up when asked, and limped his way over and up into the backseat of the vehicle. "Blaine."

"I'll get him, Kiddo. Don't worry."

Kurt shuddered a painful sigh of relief as he felt the weight of his boyfriend's body press against him. He was cold, yet alive and still breathing. That was all that mattered. Despite the pain it caused his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around Blaine and pulled him in close. They were going to be okay now.


	5. The Hurt Before the Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While getting treated for his injuries, Kurt deals with the emotional and physical aftermath of the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for depictions of medical examinations and sample collections including those given to sexual and physical assault victims, reference to past childhood non-con/rape, and dubious consent. If such bothers you, this chapter can be skipped in its entirety or you can read the last scene for a sort of summary that's less graphic. Thanks to notenoughtogivebread, her spouse, & google for the medical advice. A twenty hour, insomnia-filled sprint of research went into writing this chapter. Before I knew it, there were over 4,800 words, so I decided to call it a day. The next chapter should be happier. Then again, I always think that. This chapter was revised on January 30, 2018. The most notable changes include adjustments to the time line and grammatical fixes in the scene with Doctor Jones.

\-------------------------

Kurt woke to a bright light shining in his eyes, strange smells, and a man's voice that wouldn't stop talking. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but self preservation forced him to take stock of this new situation and determine if he needed to run.

"Hey, Buddy, can you tell me your name? His pupils are responding. That's good. Buddy, come on, you can do it."

A soft, woman's voice spoke next. He knew that one and it filled him with comfort. "Honey, we need to know your name. Do you remember it?"

"Kur...t."

"Do you know who I am?"

Kurt pushed through the fog. He knew this one. "Carole."

"That's right. You're doing really good, Sweetie."

The human male spoke again. "Can you tell me what happened to you?

A surge of panic swept through Kurt's body. Flashes of looming shadows coming out of the darkness, fists, and booted feet. Ice and his boyfriend lying on it, unmoving. "Blaine. Where's Blaine?"

"Blaine is fine. He's with another doctor."

Kurt tried to focus his eyes on his surroundings, on the objects behind Carole. The medical equipment in his curtained off area and the smell of antiseptic was not reassuring. "Where...where am I?'

"At the emergency clinic."

"No!" This was bad. Very bad. Kurt struggled at the hands pushing him down. "No! Let go. Blaine! Run!"

Carole tried her best to reassure the scared boy. Even in his injured state he was strong and it took both her and the doctor to press him back onto the examination table, hoping they weren't making his condition worse. "Kurt, you're hurt. Please lay back down. I promise you're safe. No one is going to harm you or Blaine."

"Please, let me go." Every inch of his body screamed with pain and it begged him to stop, but he had no choice. He had to run. He had to keep his boyfriend safe. He couldn't let him be hurt further. "Blaine!"

"This clinic isn't like the other one. It's safe. I promise. Doctor Howell and I are just trying to help you."

"I want to see him."

"After we check you out. Please let us help you, Honey."

Kurt looked into Carole's eyes, felt her hand on his arm, no longer holding him down, but offered in comfort. She had never hurt him before, never put him in danger. With how bad he felt, it was time to trust her again. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay."

The man's voice returned as did his self assured, grinning face. "Blaine is with Doctor Jones. She's going to take good care of him. My job is to worry about you. Call me Doctor Carl. Can you tell me where it hurts, Kurt?"

Kurt tried to roll his eyes, unsure how successful he was at it. "Everywhere."

"I bet. Where's the worst pain?"

That was also a stupid question, but he tried to answer it anyway. "Head, face, shoulder, leg, chest."

"Are you having trouble breathing?"

"A little. Mostly hurts." The questions became shorter, more clinical and direct. Fired off at a fast pace that he struggled to keep up with. 

"Which leg?"

"Um...left."

"Which shoulder?"

"This one." He moved his hand to where it hurt.

"Your right?"

It took Kurt a minute to figure out the answer. "Yes."

The doctor nodded after each answer, marking his patient's responses on the chart in his hands, and summing them up in his head. He gave the kid his most charming smile. He had always been praised for his bedside manner. "Kurt, I'm not going to lie to you. You are pretty messed up. The good news is that I don't think you're in any immediate danger. We need to run some tests and do a more thorough assessment, so you and I are going see a lot of each other tonight and mostly likely the next couple of days. But first, we need to get you into one of those embarrassing medical gowns. We'll make sure your privacy is maintained as much as possible though, okay? Is it alright if Carole helps you into it or would you prefer a different nurse?"

Kurt nodded his assent. It was a bad idea. Verbal replies were better. They didn't make his head swim as much. "Carole is fine."

"Alrighty then. I'll see you in a bit. Nurse Carole, retake his vitals and let me know if anything changes. I'm going to go see if the CT machine has decided to work tonight."

"And if it hasn't?"

"I'm going to whack it really hard."

Carole laughed at the joke and pulled the curtain fully around the patient assessment area Kurt was in. "How are you doing, Sweetie?"

"Feel sick."

"Like you want to vomit?" 

Kurt forgot he wasn't supposed to move his head.

Carole reached for a bedpan before her charge could reply and caught his mess just in time. "That's common with concussions. Get it all out. You'll feel better."

Given how little he'd eaten the last couple of days, Kurt was surprised there was that much. "Sorry."

"I've been a parent for nineteen years and a nurse for longer. A little puke doesn't bother me. Do you think you're finished?" At Kurt's whispered "yes," she set the pan down and held the straw sticking out of a small cup of water to his lips. "Have a few sips to get the taste out, but not too much. Don't want to upset your stomach again."

Kurt was grateful for the relief the water provided, but was surprised when he saw blood left on the straw. A tooth wiggled when he pressed his tongue against it. Fuck.

"Don't worry, Kurt. We're going to take good care of you. Doctor Howell studied dentistry before he switched to internal medicine. Do you think you're ready to get changed now or do you need to vomit again?"

"I'm ready." He braced himself for what was to come. This was Carole. She was safe. At least she had been so far.

"We're going to start with your boots and coat and work our way through the layers. Any time you feel uncomfortable or in pain, you let me know and I'll stop. I'll keep your exposure to a minimum." Carole looked for confirmation before starting. Sadly, she'd had too many patients that had been abused in the ways Kurt had and it broke her heart. She kept her touches methodical, clinical, and gentle; her words carefully chosen, and apologized when the movement caused him pain. Her mind kept note of the recent injuries, some layered upon old ones. The bruises on his arms and chest were extensive, as were the cuts on his face and head. As she helped Kurt remove his cargo pants and long johns, scissors at the ready should it be less painful to cut them off, she was relieved that his leg didn't appear to be broken. The dark patch of bruising and sharp pain at the back of his thigh was most likely a hamstring tear. She'd seen a lot of them and not just the one her son had gotten playing football in high school.

"We're almost done, Kurt. I'm sorry, but the doctor needs everything removed. Do you want to do it on your own or would you like me to help?"

Kurt looked away and tried to focus his mind on anything but what was being done to his body. He couldn't bring himself to answer her directly, unable to stop his voice from its low whisper, repeating, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." He tried to turn on his side, fumbling to open the snap at the back of his underwear. He felt Carole's hands do it for him and then pull away. Clenching his eyes shut, he pushed his briefs down his legs as far as he could manage, not quite realizing his chant had changed to, "This is different. This is different."

Carole did as promised, keeping Kurt's nudity as brief as possible, slipping the gown over his arms, tying it shut in the back, and removing his underwear the rest of the way after covering his body with a blanket. From what she had seen, there didn't appear to be any fresh trauma to his genitals or buttocks. The doctor would do need to do a thorough examination though given the severity of the attack and his past history. 

She gave him a moment to collect himself. He looked so dejected and helpless. She was used to scared Kurt, angry Kurt, Kurt in pain after being attacked by bees, and Kurt sick with the flu. But never had she seen him this broken and resigned to the unknown fate that awaited him. The mom in her wanted to cry and hold him and tell him everything would be fine. The nurse in her knew her patient needed professionalism. She settled on a compromise of the two. "I'm going to help you get through this, Kurt. Every step of the way if you need me. Alright?" She retrieved the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around his least damaged arm. "I need to retake your vitals and then draw some blood. Are you fine with that?"

Kurt shrugged, gasping out loud at the pain the movement caused.

"I'm sensing the good pain killers in your future. And cheesecake if you feel up to it." She was pleased her offer had been met with a smile and perked up ears. It was a good sign that he was still in there and would make it through. She pumped up the cuff, put the tips of the stethoscope in her ears, and pressed the tunable diaphragm to his brachial artery. His blood pressure was still high and she made a note of it on his chart. She talked him through the steps as she took his temperature, slipped the pulse oximeter on his finger, and then got out the equipment for the blood draw, grateful she'd been trained in phlebotomy. 

Carole regretted what she had to ask of the kid next, but it was necessary. She kept her words and actions as clinical as possible. "I'm going to need a urine and fecal sample, Kurt. Do you feel you could produce the necessary bowel movements?" She continued after his nod. "Would you like to do it here or in the bathroom?"

Knowing he didn't have a choice in the matter, not a real one anyway, he gave his consent, stealing himself for the mortification to come. Carole had treated him with respect and as a nurse. This was just another day for her. Hell, given the places he'd had to relieve himself while homeless, a medical setting was the least embarrassing. Internal pep talk done, he replied to her as he tried to sit up. "Here is fine. Hurts to walk." He watched as Carole changed her gloves and retrieved a fresh bed pan, two specimen cups, sterile wipes, and what looked like a tongue depressor. He followed her instructions, embarrassed that she had to see him fully exposed and help when his dominant hand couldn't grasp the urine collection cup properly. He was grateful he had "voided," as she had called it, not realizing how full his bladder was until offered the opportunity to empty it. He allowed her to help him clean up, unable to keep hiding how much the movements needed for the collections had hurt. 

Further relief came when he was allowed to lie back down and Carole covered him with the blanket, promising to return with news of Blaine once she had dropped the samples off. Kurt tried to thank her, but sleep came on him fast and he drifted off into a restless oblivion.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Kurt, can you wake up for me? Come on, Buddy, I know you're tired, but I need you to wake up."

"No." Kurt clamped his eyes shut and turned away from the annoying voice.

"Don't make me break out the light pen thingy. What is the name of that Nurse Carole? I can never remember."

"Pen light."

"There's not a fancy word for it?" 

"Not as far as I know."

"Don't become a doctor, Kid. All that technical jargon? It messes with your head." 

Kurt tried to bat away the hand that was forcing his eyelids open and the other holding the light, but he couldn't make the connection. 

"I warned you. His pupils are responding to light. Reaction time is slow and coordination is bit of a mess. Okay, Kurt, time to find out just how extensive your injuries are. If anything hurts or you need me to stop, let me know. Nurse Carole is going to be here with you the entire time. Are you okay with that?"

He glared at the man. "I don't have a choice."

"Mmm...technically you do. No one is going to force you to stay, but I really think you should."

"Fine." He was more annoyed that he wasn't allowed to go back to sleep than anything else. He knew he needed help. It was better than last time when he'd curled up behind some abandoned warehouse thinking he was going to die. The hand Carole laid on his arm was reassuring and he tried to accept the comfort that was offered with it.

"Kurt, I'm going to help you sit up and then I'll have to untie your gown and drop it to your waist so the doctor can check your lungs and heart, and then start assessing your injuries and potential damage to your internal organs. Are you alright with that?"

Kurt nodded his agreement. This was going to suck, but he liked that they asked first instead of just touching him without warning nor a care to his feelings. He couldn't take the deep breaths Doctor Carl wanted and he didn't need the guy to tell him why. He'd broken ribs before. Or rather, other people had broken his ribs. The pain was a familiar one. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Fuck!" The one in his shoulder as it was manipulated wasn't. "Fucking hell!"

"Sorry about that. As stupid as this sounds, I'm going to need you to tell me on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, what is the level of your pain in that area?" The man chuckled at the non-verbal reply. "I think we can count that as an eleven, Nurse Carole." He backed away from the examination table a few steps to allow her to move into his place. "Carole is going to help you pull your gown back up and then I'll examine your face, mouth, and head. Please don't bite me. It's the one thing I hated about dental school aside from all the halitosis."

The joke seemed familiar to Kurt, but he couldn't place it. He did was he was asked, gasping when gloved hands pressed too hard on the swollen, bleeding skin on his face, when they brushed up against the loose tooth in his mouth, and then again when they touched what he assumed were cuts on the top and back of his head. 

"I'm going to need to take the blanket off your legs now so I can look at them. Are you okay with that?"

Kurt gave his consent, but tugged on the edge of the gown and held it in place, warily watching the human doctor's every move. He pushed his foot against the man's hand when asked, allowed him to press on his skin to check for broken bones, and moved to the edge of the examination table so that each leg could be bent and extended in turn to check his range of mobility. At least the doctor laughed again when he flipped him off. The pain in his left leg was as bad as his shoulder, and he was surprised when he was told it wasn't broken. When it was requested that he turn over so the backs of his legs and tail could be examined, he was grateful when Carole laid the blanket across his butt, protecting what little modesty he had left. It got lifted away though when the doctor discovered bruising on his hip and wanted a closer look. 

Allowed to finally lie back fully on the examination table and be covered again, he braced himself for what was surely to come next. There was only one area left.

"Kurt, given that you haven't had proper medical care and where you spent time, I think it best if you consent to a rectal and genital exam. Either I can do it or there's Doctor Jones. She's a mixed race hybrid and has special training in trauma cases such as yours."

Kurt immediately regretted shaking his head violently as a fresh wave of nausea swept through him. "Not you."

"Fair enough. You'll consent to the exam?"

His reply came out in a broken, "Yes."

"For your protection, there has to be another person in the room. Would you feel more comfortable with a hybrid nurse as well?"

This time, Kurt didn't shake his head as he replied. "Carole is fine."

* * * * * * *

Doctor Carl left the examination area and another person arrived shortly thereafter, standing behind the wall of curtains. "May I come in?"

Kurt took a deep breath before replying, immediately regretting it as much as he knew he'd regret what he was consenting to. At least the exam would hurt less than broken ribs. At least he hoped so. "Yes."

The woman that appeared was indeed a mixed race hybrid. Her dark skin was more visible under her chestnut fur than a full hybrid as mixes tended to have less hair. There were always exceptions of course. His boyfriend, for one, whose fur was curly and dense, and some full humans he'd seen. Her eyes were a striking brown and filled with a familiar sense of genuine kindness. 

He was glad when she didn't offer her hand to shake when she introduced herself, keeping them in the pockets of her lab coat. He hated shaking hands. It was unnecessary touching and he was about to be touched far more than he wanted to be. 

"Hi, Kurt, I'm Doctor Jones." 

"You took care of Blaine?"

"Yes, I did. I can't provide you with any details without his permission, but I can tell you that he's going to be fine. If you'd like, I can try to put you two close together after you've been checked out. You're both going to need to be under observation for awhile, so it actually makes it easier on us."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm sorry. This is unprofessional of me and you of course don't have to answer, but by any chance, do you know a Mercedes Jones?"

"Yes."

"So you are her Kurt. She talks about you all the time and you look so much like my dad. No wonder she gets confused. It's nice to finally meet you and it's lovely that you've been helping her out."

"She's nice."

"Well, now that that curiosity is out of the way, shall we begin? Though, if I made you feel uncomfortable I can leave and bring back Doctor Howell."

"You're fine." Kurt let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Does this really have to be done?"

"I honestly think it would be to your benefit. I'll be checking for visible signs of STIs, scar tissue, and any unhealed tears and damage that needs to be repaired. Nurse Carole has taken your blood, urine, and stool samples, but those tests can't tell us everything."

The abused hybrid averted his eyes away from the woman's. "I know there are scars. I saw them...with a mirror once."

"I'm very sorry for what happened to you and what you've been through. I promise to be as professional and gentle as possible. I can talk you through the exam using only clinical terms or I can remain silent. And at any time you need me to stop, I will."

Kurt clutched the blanket to his chest tightly, knowing it would soon be taken from him. If this had to be done, he was at least thankful it was Mercedes' daughter. A person that sweet could only have raised another in kind. He felt he could trust her. "What do I have to do?"

"I'm going to ask you a series of questions that I need you to answer as honestly as possible. Then we'll begin the physical exam. Like I mentioned before, I can talk you through it or remain silent. If you have music you'd like to listen to and a pair of earbuds, you can use those. If you need to dissociate yourself from what's happening, that's fine and perfectly normal. Just remember that you are free to stop me at any time."

"You can tell me what's going to happen. Just not too...not in too much...detail." Kurt started to push the blanket away, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

"You can keep the blanket. I'm going to ask the questions first. Nurse Carole, if you wouldn't mind handing me the clipboard with his chart on it." 

Kurt startled for a brief minute. He'd forgotten that she was there. A fresh wave of embarrassment flooded through him. Maybe it was for the best though, that she finally know. Maybe she could help or tell Burt so he could better understand why he was still cautious around him. He was grateful she didn't talk though nor make a move to hold his hand or otherwise touch him. While he'd understand the why, it would be near-unbearable given what was about to happen.

Doctor Jones pulled the stool closer to his examination table and began to ask her questions, marking down his answers, sometimes a simple check mark, other times a bit of writing when he was forthcoming with a requested explanation. Yes, he was currently sexually active. All acts between himself and his singular partner were consensual. Yes, he had been forced into non-consensual sex. When? It depended upon what you considered sex. Fine. Then that act and that one and that one at thirteen. The rest, the worst, when he was fifteen. Had he ever performed X, Y, or Z for money or services. Yes, to X and Y. When? Fifteen through sixteen if you didn't count the time at the Reformatory. Longer if you did. Yes, protection was used, but only once he got out. He'd insisted on it. Before then, what Ryerson did to him and made him do, he had tried not to look. He could still remember the taste of the man's skin before it was covered with cum and waste though, so probably not. 

Eventually the questions stopped and he was allowed to rest for a bit. He asked for the bed pan and vomited into it, his stomach heaving out nothing but bile and the bit of water he'd had earlier. He accepted the cup of water and rinsed out his mouth, watching the swirls of blood mix with his saliva and other liquids. There had been blood back then too, but it had been in a different area.

The doctor allowed him more time to collect himself, but eventually had to press on. He couldn't blame her. He wanted to get this over with too. 

"Keep lying on your back, Kurt. Nurse Carole will fold the blanket and gown above your waist and then I'll begin the examination of your genitalia. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he was anywhere else. "It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon." ran on a loop inside his head. He tried to ignore what was going on, but at times he had to reply to a question, and there was still the fact that someone other than himself or Blaine was touching his penis.

"You have some mild abrasions. Are you and your partner using lubricant?"

"We ran out. It was cold and there was...chaffing."

"I'll make sure you're sent home with some and a supply of condoms." Doctor Jones finished her exam, gently folded Kurt's gown down back over him, removed her gloves, and jotted down her notes. 

She took a silent, deep breath. The next part of the exam was often the worst for her patients, but if she wanted to be thorough, it had to be done. She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and retrieved a two part, tube shaped metallic instrument, a couple of sterile culture swabs, and a bottle of lubricant. "Kurt, if you're fine with proceeding, I'm going to need you to lie on the side that hurts you the least, scoot to the edge of the table, and try to bend your knees up to your chest. I'll do an external exam of your buttocks and then an internal one of your anus. First, I'll use my finger to feel for any irregularities in your prostate." She held up the metallic device on a level that he could more clearly see. "Then I'll insert this anoscope. It'll allow me to see if there's any internal damage and take some samples. Do I have your permission to perform these procedures?"

Tears pooled in Kurt's eyes. "Just get it over with."

"May Nurse Carole help you get into the correct position?"

"Yes." He yelped in pain as his body was moved and bent into place. Where were the good drugs? He had been promised drugs. And surely this wasn't good for his broken ribs. He felt a draft as his gown was pulled away from his back and his tail held out of the way by Carole. He tried to ignore the sound of the doctor's voice and the touch of her gloved fingers. Tears ran down his face as he was entered and his prostate touched. He hated his body for reacting the way it did. This wasn't enjoyable! "No. No. No. No. No."

The doctor pulled her hands away. "Kurt, would you like me to stop?"

Kurt's emotional core screamed, "Yes!" It was the logical part of his mind that replied verbally. "There's only one last thing?"

"Yes, the scope and sample collection."

"Do it." At the first press of the lubricated device, he started shaking. He tried to think of Blaine and the one perfect night they'd had at the roller skating rink. April was alone, the last customer gone, and she'd allowed them to skate for a few of hours with the promise they'd finish her closing duties. And so they had skated, and fallen, but mostly skated, blasting Katy Perry and showtunes, turning on the disco lights, eating too-hot fries, and drinking shitty Chardonnay. They had felt so perfectly normal and free then. Just two teenagers in love. 

The illusion was shattered when he felt the device being pulled out and his bottom wiped clean. Carole helped him lie back into a more comfortable position and covered him up with his medical gown and blanket.

It was the doctor, not her, that he heard speak. "It's all over now, Kurt. Thank you for trusting me. Doctor Howell or I will let you know when the results come back."

"I want to get dressed."

"I'm sorry, but that's not a good idea given the state that you're in. You're still going to need a few X-rays and a CT scan. Your wounds will need to be cleaned and tended to. And given the state that your clothes are in, I think it best if you don't put them back on until they've been washed. We usually have a few extra sets of clothing around here. I'm sure we can find you something to wear once all that is done."

"I can have Burt bring you some of your clothes from home."

"Thank you, Nurse Carole. It would make things easier given our limited resources. Pajamas would be best for now, something loose and comfortable. Is that alright with you, Kurt?"

He turned away from the voices and pulled the blanket more firmly around himself. "No choice."

"I understand it feels that way. We're just trying to help you. The worst is over. You'll be feeling better in no time."

The doctor left and Carole did too after a pat to his arm and a soft, "Try to get some rest, Honey. I'll come get you when it's time for your X-rays.

* * * * * * *

The worst was far from over. There were the scans of his chest, leg, head, shoulder, and hands. More being manipulated into odd positions that had his too-thin gown either riding up or falling open and his body shaking in pain. After one of them, he finally got to see to Blaine. Or rather Blaine's exposed backside as he was asked to sit on an examination table so that his tail could be laid out and X-rayed. Before the door was shut, he exchanged a forlorn look with his boyfriend. They were in medical hell, but at least they didn't feel so alone anymore.

Carole giving him a sponge bath added to his humiliation. He'd begged her to let him take a shower alone, but both she and Doctor Carl didn't think he was in any condition to do it safely. At least she let him clean his own privates and kept the parts of him not being washed covered. He was given a fresh gown to put on while she changed his sheets and brought him a clean blanket and pillow. There was still no underwear nor the promised pair of pajama pants. He had seen Blaine wearing some when he was being wheeled into the CT scan room, the lucky bastard.

After the bath came stitches to his face and head, splints on two fingers of his right hand, gauze wrapped around both hands, and at least four ACE bandages secured around his thigh. Apparently, he'd torn his hamstring and pulled his ITB when he'd slipped on the ice and fallen after kicking one of his attackers in the groin. He hoped the asshole could still taste his balls for all the pain he was in because of it. Doctor Carl had told him the surgery to fix his upper carnassial tooth would have to come later. 

Kurt had thought the examination and scans of his dislocated shoulder had been the worst pain that area would ever feel. Then his shoulder was moved back into place. Aliens hiding behind Pluto would have heard his screams. At least once it was over and his arm put into a sling, it felt better. 

Because of the tooth and swelling in his face, he was put on mushy foods. At the clinic, this meant oatmeal, or something that looked a lot like it, and smelled meaty. He snuck it to his boyfriend when the staff wasn't looking. He didn't feel like eating anyway. Even the vanilla pudding Blaine gave him in exchange tasted funny and felt odd in his mouth.

Pain killers, but still no damn underwear, but at least an extra gown to cover his back and ass, came a little later, when he and Blaine finally had their beds wheeled side by side in front of the observation desk. According to Carole, broken ribs weren't taped or wrapped anymore. Staff just monitored you for blood clots, internal bleeding, and made your life hell with breathing exercises to prevent pneumonia. She said they were more worried about their concussions and...something else he couldn't remember. He and Blaine didn't have much privacy, but that didn't matter. He got to hold his boyfriend's hand and worry over his patched eye, broken wrist, and dislocated tail with four shattered caudal vertebra. Together, they drifted off into a deep, drugged out sleep.


	6. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's stay at the medical clinic begins to heal his physical wounds. Yet the emotional toll continues. (Angst and feels with some happy times. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same trigger warnings apply as for the previous chapter. This one ends happier, I swear. For an emotional break, check out the Klaine Advent one-shots that tie into this verse starting with Day 2. Thanks again to notenoughtogivebread for their help with the medical information. Any mistakes, irregularities, and liberties taken are all my own. Thanks as always to avengerco for being my spouse and beta. This chapter was revised on January 31, 2018.

"Soooo...we might have chlamydia." Kurt gave his boyfriend an apologetic smile. "Well, I'm assuming I gave you chlamydia."

"How do you know I didn't give it to you?"

"Blaine, come on."

"It doesn't matter who gave it to who. No judge...judge...judgments, right?" Blaine tried to focus on Kurt with his one good eye. His boyfriend was so handsome. "Life isn't fair. We can't have sex for at least a week and that's after the tests come back to confirm it. Do handjobs count as sex?" 

Kurt held up his bandaged hands, his right one also sporting broken fingers braced in splints, and the same arm supported by a sling. "I don't think I could even give myself a handjob."

They heard a deep voice clearing its throat. "Enjoying the drugs, boys?"

"Mister Hummel, you're here! That's so nice of you to visit."

"How long have you been here?" Kurt stared at Burt, trying to remember the urgent thing he needed to ask him. "Did you bring me underwear? Carole said you'd bring me underwear and pajama pants. I miss pants."

Burt didn't bother holding back his laughter. These kids deserved a break, even if it was medically induced. "Thank you, Blaine. I've been here for about twenty minutes, Kurt. And yes, I brought you your underwear and pants. Carole already helped you change into them."

"She did?" Kurt pulled back the blanket covering him. "Blaine, I have pants! Now my dick won't be flopping out all the time."

"But I love your dick, Kurt. It's a really nice dick."

There was having fun with your stoned out kid and then there was information you really didn't need to know. "You know what, boys? I think I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee. You two go finish your conversation."

Kurt gave the nice human his biggest smile. "I'm wearing underwear. Thank you, Burt!"

"You're welcome, Kiddo."

* * * * * * *

"I think I know you."

"We met last night, Kurt. I'm Doctor Carl."

"No, I mean before then. A long time ago." Kurt tried to push through the fog in his head. The pain killers were wearing off and he wouldn't be allowed any more for at least another hour. On top of that, there was the concussion messing with his thought processes. "You worked at the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory."

"I did. I wasn't going to bring it up. You've been through enough."

Kurt gave the doctor a fond smile. "You were nice to me. All of the kids liked you."

"Judging from the size of your brand and the growth around it, I'm guessing you were what, eight when you entered?"

"Six."

"Damn, that's rough, Kurt. I'm sorry."

"Me too." Kurt looked away. He didn't like remembering that time. He had been so young and terrified, thrust into a loud and violent world he didn't understand. Over the years, there had been only a handful of staff that had treated him well. Doctor Carl had been one of them. "Why did you leave?"

"It wasn't by choice. I started asking too many questions, worried about the injuries you kids were coming in with. It was becoming clearer what was going on, even to me, the dental student they thought they could hire cheap and would be too stupid to figure things out. After I was told my services would no longer be needed, I switched to internal medicine with a hybrid focus. If I couldn't help the kids there, I figured I could help some elsewhere. After I finished my internship, I was asked to help run this underground clinic. And here we are."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I really wish I could have done more back then."

Kurt shrugged, wincing at the pain the movement caused. It was what it was. Sucked like hell, but Doctor Carl had never been part of the problem. At least, not how he figured it, but he wasn't figuring things well right now, so maybe there was something that could have been done. 

Carl knew the time for reminiscing was over and put himself back into doctor mode. He hadn't been able to do much for the Kurt of the past, but he could help the present one. "Shoulder still bothering you?"

"Not as much as before."

"We'll keep icing it every three hours. We're kind of shorthanded on nursing staff today. Is it alright if I proceed with your exam on my own or would you prefer I try to scrounge someone up?"

Kurt clutched the blanket covering him, immediately tense. "It's not going to be like last night, is it?"

Carl pulled the stool closer to the bed, so that he could be on a more even eye level with his patient. "No, Kurt. In a week, Doctor Jones would like to do a follow up exam and blood test. For now though, I just need to perform a routine exam - check your injuries, internal organs, make sure I'm not seeing or hearing anything that could be a cause for alarm. Due to the extent of your injuries, it would be best if your gown and pajama pants were removed. While you can keep your underwear on, I will need to move them a bit in order to check your hip. The X-ray didn't show any fractures, but given how much bruising there is, I'd prefer to keep an eye on it. Your private areas will remain covered at all times." Doctor Carl readjusted his grip on his clipboard and gave his patient his most sincere look of compassion. "After all you've been through, it's understandable that you don't trust anyone and don't like to be touched. I wouldn't either in your situation. I swear to you, Kurt, no one here is looking to hurt you. Everyone on my staff is here to help, not just you, but the entire Northwestern Ohio hybrid community. Most are volunteers and they wouldn't be here if they didn't care. The choice is yours. I will not touch you without your permission unless there's a medical emergency that requires it or a zombie attack. Shoving you at them might give me a minute's head start."

After reminding himself that he did need help, had already gotten it, and after last night, there wasn't a doctor, nurse, technician, or orderly that hadn't seen some part of him naked and none had touched him inappropriately or let their eyes linger, Kurt gave in with a sigh. "Okay."

The exam was far shorter than Kurt had expected. He was poked and pressed, had a cold stethoscope held to his chest and back, a few of his limbs moved, and yes, everything still fucking hurt a lot, Doctor Carl. New bruising had appeared, but that was to be expected. His thigh was rewrapped and his arm put back in its sling. 

When the exam was over and he had helped Kurt redress fully and written his notes down on the chart, Doctor Carl addressed his patient again. "Kurt, I don't think I need to tell you this, but you're still pretty messed up. You've shown some improvement, but it's best if you stay here for little while."

"How long?"

"Four...five days...a week tops. This way we can keep an eye on your concussion, broken ribs, and get your vitals under better control. You'll stay on the pain killers and muscle relaxants that you've been enjoying. I'd like to start you on an IV with a broad spectrum antibiotic until Doctor Jones gets your test results back. You're also going to need electrolytes, glucose, saline, and a bunch of nutrients. The nurses tell me you've been refusing food and I heard you hadn't had much to eat this past week. Combined with the vomiting, you're depleted."

"My mouth hurts too much to drink or eat and everything tastes weird."

"The bad taste is a side effect of the concussion. The tooth, I'll do surgery on once the swelling goes down on your face and the stitches have had some time to do their job." 

Kurt let out a sigh. He felt like shit. How bad could an IV be? At least he wouldn't have to taste what was in it. "Okay."

The doctor tilted his head to the right side of Kurt's curtained off enclosure. "Anything else I can help you with before I go check on your boyfriend and it's your turn to eavesdrop?"

"I wasn't!"

Kurt laughed at the affronted voice. "I could hear you breathing, Blaine."

"Breathing isn't eavesdropping, Kurt."

"It is when you're gasping and mumbling, 'Oh, Kurt!' every time something hurt."

"You shouldn't have to hurt, Kurt!"

Kurt gave his boyfriend a smirk he knew he couldn't see. "I rest my case."

Blaine laughed as the doctor pulled on the curtains to leave Kurt's area and enter his own. He only caught a glimpse of his boyfriend before his sightline was cut off. The smile had already faded from Kurt's face. Knowing what he'd had to endure and what was to come for himself, he didn't blame him. 

"Hi, Blaine. I'm Doctor Carl. Doctor Jones won't be in until the evening, so you get stuck with me today. We're kind of short handed on nursing staff. Is it alright if I proceed with your exam on my own or would you prefer I try to scrounge someone up?"

"It's fine."

"Alight then, let's look at your chart, shall we?"

* * * * * * *

Burt entered the room Kurt and Blaine were sharing. Snoring could be heard within the curtained off section closest to the window. Kurt's area was open though, which was odd given how much he preferred his privacy. His heart broke every time he saw the boy, covered in bandages and bruises, and a look on his face like he was alone in the world. "Hey, Kiddo. How are you feeling?"

Kurt held up his left hand and gave it a disgusted look. "I've been IV'ed."

"I can see that."

"Is Carole here?"

"She's at home sleeping before her shift at the hospital. Was so worried about you, she stayed up all night to make sure you were okay."

"That was nice of her. Tell her, 'thank you,' for me." Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his bed, silent for a while before finally speaking. "I really have to pee."

Burt laughed. "Still enjoying those drugs, Kid?"

"No. I really have to pee!' He tried to move the arm that was in a sling, gasping at the pain it caused. "I can't move, I haven't been able to wave anyone down for help, and Blaine's asleep." Kurt closed his eyes, embarrassed, but desperate. "Could you, um, help?"

Realization of what was being asked of him dawned upon Burt's brain. "Oh! Sure. Of course I can. Let me get the bed pan for you."

"Um...I kind of need you to...help me get things...out. You'll have to wear gloves because of the...you know."

"Are you sure, Kurt? I don't want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable."

Kurt looked Burt in the eyes. "I need to start trusting you. And I really, really, really have to pee."

"It's your call."

"I think there's gloves in the drawer over there." Kurt watched as the man acquired a pair from the storage unit against the wall and put them on. He tried to pull the blanket off his lap, but it was hard and he was grateful when Burt did it for him. "Could you tug my pants and underwear down a little?"

"Sure." Burt did as asked, careful not to touch the boy directly until he had no choice and was directed to do so. He tucked the bed pan close and looked away while Kurt clumsily held himself in place with his tethered hand.

Kurt let out a sigh of relief as he was finally able to let go. He'd never had an IV before and now knew how evil they were. When he was done, he took the tissue he was offered and wiped himself off as best he could. "Can you help me get back in? I'm afraid I'm going to break the needle if I move any more." Kurt liked that Burt didn't look unless it was necessary and touched him in gentle, limited movements - only what was needed to get him tucked back into his underwear and his pajama pants pulled up. He appreciated the care of being re-covered with the blanket as well. "Thank you."

Burt shrugged the matter off as he disposed of the gloves and wiped his hands down with sanitizer. "It's part of being a parent, Kurt. When your kid is sick, you'll do anything for them."

Kurt looked down at his blanket, wishing he could pick at it to ease his nerves. "I'm sorry for running away."

Burt pulled the room's chair closer to the bed and adjusted his cap as he sat down in order to buy some time to collect this thoughts. "I can't say that I'm not a bit disappointed you ran away, Kurt. I also can't say that I didn't see this coming. One step forward, two steps back. That's how raising kids is sometimes, especially ones that have been through the kinds of trauma you have. Things were going too good there for awhile, so I figured something had to break eventually. That it was over a box cereal? That I wasn't expecting." Burt sighed when Kurt turned away. He was never good at words and needed to fix this. "Hey, I'm not mad, Kiddo. Finn doesn't think sometimes and you'd bought that with your own money after being without for a long time."

"My mom and I were always poor. I should be used to it."

"That doesn't make what Finn did right. It was a stupid mistake. I just wish you hadn't run away because of it. We could have worked something out."

"I did come back, once."

"I know, Bud. I heard. Wish you had stayed."

"Me too. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Kurt. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry that you were too scared to come back. I'm sorry that I didn't do more to make you feel safe and wanted."

Kurt wished he could wipe at the tears forming in his eyes. "You came for me."

"Always, Kiddo." Burt reached a tentative hand out and rested it upon the bed, close to the boy, but not quite touching him. 

Kurt leaned forward enough so that he could place his own hand upon it and gave him a watery smile. "Thank you."

* * * * * * *

Carole pulled back a section of the privacy curtain that allowed her to enter Kurt's half of the room he shared with Blaine, relieved that both boys had stabilized enough to be moved from the emergency area. She didn't know who funded the hybrid clinic, but it was far better equipped than she had imagined and was grateful for it. "It's time for your breathing exercises, Kurt."

Kurt turned away from the woman as best he could, burying his face in his pillow, ignoring the pain as it pressed upon his swollen cheek. "I want to go home."

"Oh, Honey, we talked about this before. It's better if you stay here."

"This isn't the first time I've had the shit beaten out of me. I ended up fine."

"No, Kurt, you truly didn't."

"I lived."

"I've seen your chart. You were lucky."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head as his tail trashed under the covers and his body shook with anger. "Fucking everyone has seen it! Why don't they just take a bunch of pictures and put them up on the wall? Here's where he was raped! Here's where he had his ribs broken because he hadn't learned the pecking order at the grocery store dumpster! Here's where he had to let some closet case 7-11 clerk blow him because he didn't have enough money to buy some damn Advil and couldn't take the pain anymore! Here's where they beat the shit out of him again. And isn't it great, they got his boyfriend too as a bonus!"

Carole took a step closer, wanting to put a hand on the boy's arm, but knowing it was better not to. "Kurt, can you tell me what this is really about? Did someone here hurt you?"

"They keep touching me."

"In an inappropriate way?"

Kurt maintained his silence, pressing deeper into the bed, and tried to pull the covers tighter despite the limited movement his IV and sling allowed. "No, not technically. Everyone says I have a choice to be touched or not and that they'll maintain my privacy, but it's all a lie. Someone's always doing something - ice packs or exams or another test. They have to keep taking off my pants and this stupid medical gown is a joke." Kurt modulated his voice to a high pitched, sing-song tone. "I have to pull your gown down now, Kurt, but I'll tie it back up." He returned to his initial fury. "But when they put it back on, they just pull it up to expose the rest. Why don't they just fucking strip me naked and leave me here for the next person to poke at?" He tried to reach for the ties of the gown, but it was of no use. He hated being this helpless. "They won't remove the IV so I can't even go to the damn bathroom by myself and they won't let Blaine help me anymore. They won't even tell me where he is."

"First, Blaine's in surgery, Sweetie. They're removing the part of his tail that got crushed. The damage was too great and he agreed that removing the end would be better than having to worry about dragging it around without any feeling to that section." Carole closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "As for the rest, I had a feeling that might be it. I know it's a very hard thing for you to be going through and I'm sorry. As for not being allowed to go to the bathroom without help? With your torn hamstring and concussion, it's not safe for you to walk without support, and the IV is necessary. Do you remember me telling you what was in it?"

Kurt nodded his head, but refused to turn and look at her. What he had to ask next was embarrassing, but he was desperate and had no fight left in him now that his frustrations were vented. "Can't they put a catheter in or something to collect the refund? I'm tired of having to pee all the time."

Carole had to lean in to hear his question. "You're not my first patient to ask that and I wish I could tell you, yes, but I can't. They only do that in cases of medical necessity. There's risk of infection and other complications."

This time, Kurt turned his head to look at Carole. She was still there, calm and full of sympathy, not a trace of anger at his outburst. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. It's not your fault. I just don't know what to do."

"Didn't they put a urinal on your bed rail?" Carole looked for the device but didn't see it.

"Yes." Kurt shifted in his bed, moving the blanket off of himself enough to expose what had happened. The mortifying hell he was living in was never going to end, but at least this was Carole and she had helped him before. What he needed to say could only be forced out in a rush. "I tried doing it on my own. I got myself out and things were flowing, but then the urinal got too heavy and I think I dislocated my shoulder again trying to catch it when it slipped. And I can't get...it...tucked back in, and the elastic is cutting off circulation to my nads. Everything hurts and I'm soaked in pee and it's cold and gross. I just want it all to stop."

"Why didn't you call for someone?"

"I tried. No one answers unless a machine goes off. They say they're short staffed because this is a free clinic and they're dependent on volunteers. And I didn't want to be touched by some damn stranger again." 

"Oh, Kurt. How long have you been like this?"

"I don't know. I fell asleep. Stupid pain killers don't even work, but they do that."

"And the concussion and muscle relaxers."

"I keep forgetting." Kurt tried to shift so that he was no longer on display, but it barely made a difference. "Can you help me?"

"Of course. I'm going to have to..."

Kurt cut her off. He knew what needed to be done. "I know. I trust you."

"Let me get the stuff for your sponge bath, a change of bedding, and a fresh gown. I'll be right back."

"Can you first...you know, relieve the pressure?"

"Oh! Of course." Carole pulled on a pair of gloves and eased the pajama pants' elastic band off of Kurt's sensitive bits. "Do you have to urinate?"

Kurt glared at the low level of the IV bag. "Always."

"When was the last time you defecated?"

Kurt shrugged, letting out a muttered, "fuck," at the pain the action caused.

"As long as I'm here, why don't you try? Get it all out and then we'll start cleaning you up, okay?"

Knowing there was no better way out of this, he gave his consent. "Okay." 

Kurt hated being out of control as much as he hated being touched. Before moving in with the Hummels, when he was taking garden hose showers behind their garage, even then he had more dignity. He had more choices. He could choose to sneak into a public building and use their bathroom, relieve himself in some racist, homophobe's yard as karmic payback, or when neither was possible, go to the wooded area the homeless hybrid population had claimed as their own. Even at the Reformatory, he could chose to go hungry and not put on a show for the creepy guards who liked to watch the inmates shower. 

Now here he was, unable to properly use his arms and hands, shitting into a bed pan, his pee-soaked clothes removed by someone that wasn't himself and put into a bag. That same someone then had to wipe his dick and ass before bathing him. No wonder babies didn't remember this stage of their life. It was humiliating. 

As before, Carole kept her movements gentle and professional. Speaking little, letting her patient drift away from what was being done to him. It was far from the worst she had encountered as a nurse, but she wasn't Kurt and knew that for him, this wasn't an every day occurrence. That he trusted her this much was a huge step, even if it was an act of desperation. She was going to ream out whomever was in charge and let him get this way. The equipment may have been old, but it was far more than most free clinics had. Some very rich donors were footing the bills and they could afford for their already traumatized, disadvantaged patients to not sit around in their own waste. 

After she had cleaned him off, helped him into a fresh gown, and changed his sheets and bandages, she eased him into a sitting position on the bed. "I'm going to tie the urinal to the bed rail. Let me know if it's in the right position for you to use. I'll turn around so you can have some privacy."

"Why bother. There's nothing you haven't seen."

"Because you're a person, Kurt, and I can at least give you this."

By bending his right knee, Kurt was able to move the blanket covering him out of the way. Then with a few, relatively pain-free movements of his tethered left arm, he was able to scoot his hospital gown up enough to expose his penis. A short lift of his hips and it was inside the urinal. And it was peeing. What the fuck were they giving him in that damn IV? Not even elephants pissed this much. With the box of tissues Carole had placed beside him on the bed, he was able to wipe himself off. Then it was a matter of reversing the first clumsy movements. He wasn't sure if his gown was down all the way, but at least the blanket had been kneed back into place and his parts weren't exposed for all to see. "I am never moving from this position. Thank you!"

"It all worked out?"

"Yes."

"Can I turn around?"

"Are you going to make me do those awful breathing exercises?"

"You know I have to."

"Then, no."

Carole laughed at her charge's sarcasm. "Nice try, Kid. How about I give you a few more minutes reprieve by letting you drink your Boost first?" She opened the can of supplement she'd brought in with her and slid in a straw.

"More liquids? No, thank you."

"An IV can't do everything, Kurt. You've got to eat."

Kurt glared at the can, his ears flat against his head. "I hate them. They're racist."

That was a new one she hadn't heard before. "How so?"

"They all taste like tuna. We're hybrids, not animals. Hell, we're not even technically hybrids. Not in the way most humans think we are. We're not half animal, half human. We're our own separate race. It's basic evolution. You don't see me offering humans bananas and telling them not to fling their poo. Same thing when we're only offered meat-flavored things. It's racist and human-centric thinking."

Carole turned the label to face Kurt so that he could see it more clearly. "Kurt, Boost doesn't come in tuna flavor. This is vanilla."

"Oh." Kurt let out a huff of annoyance. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"This or an NG tube until your tooth can be fixed."

The thought of having another device inserted into him and relinquishing even more control over what happened to his body left him cold. "I'll drink the damn Boost. They suck, you know."

"So everyone tells me." She put the straw to his lips. "If you drink it all, I'll let you curse while I put your lungs through their paces."

"I was going to anyway."

"Yeah, but this time I wasn't going to pretend it wasn't funny."

Kurt laughed for the first time that day. He really liked Carole. She was one of the few people who understood him, broken mess and all. "Deal."

* * * * * * *

"Blaine, you're back!"

"Kurt, you came back to me!"

Kurt tried to reach out his hand across the space to his boyfriend's bed, but it didn't quiet reach. "I didn't leave. You did."

"I would never leave you. I love you." Blaine reached out his hand to make the connection. It took a few tries, but he did it. "Why did they take you away from me?"

Kurt was confused. He was also starting to fall out of his bed, so he let go of his boyfriend. "They didn't, Blaine. They took you away to fix something."

"But the nurse said that about you."

Kurt stared at his hands. They were covered in white bandages. He was pretty sure there were some on his face and head. He tugged at his blanket. One of his legs was wrapped up too. "Maybe it happened to both of us?" He stared intently at his boyfriend's head. "Are you a pirate now? They didn't fix your eye. It's still patchy."

Blaine willed his good eye to focus on what his boyfriend had exposed. "You have the best dick in the universe, Kurt! I love walking your plank."

"I love your plank too." Kurt stared at his bandaged leg and then back at Blaine. "Are your legs hurt too? Maybe you only have one and you're like pirate Noah!"

"Let me check!" Blaine pulled back his blanket and hospital gown, exposing everything that was below his waist. "No, I still have both legs, but I think this one is in a cast. Does that count?"

"I don't know." With a huge grin plastered on his face, Kurt pointed at his boyfriend's nether regions. "I can see your plank!"

Blaine was absolutely delighted at the revelation. "Deckhand, to the mainsail and oil up the mast!"

"You can shiver me timbers anytime, Big Boy!"

Together they burst into laughter. 

Burt leaned over and whispered to Carole, "Why do they always end up talking about...those things?"

"They're two hormonal teenage boys in love. And given their recent surgeries, their doctors upped their pain medication and put them on a second muscle relaxer. Let them enjoy their high before it wears off."

"But do we really have to see...that? If the kid was in his right mind, you know he'd hate being exposed like this."

"You're right." Carole left the room and quickly returned with a small bundle in her arms. "Hey, Kurt, Blaine, would you like another blanket? I bet you're a bit cold there."

"I love blankets!"

"Me, too!"

"Would you like to urinate first, Kurt?"

Kurt stared at Carole. He was pretty sure that was her name. "You're what?"

"Pee, Honey. Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"Oh, okay." Kurt tried to shift his body to where he thought he was supposed to go.

"Let me help you."

"I can help him, Nurse Carole! I love his dick. It's so nice and big. Captain, permission to come on board and swab your deck?"

"Well, I do like the size of your sword and I could always use me another hearty mate. Swab away!"

Again, the boys burst into laughter, adding more pirate puns they'd read in those awesome books.

Carole didn't know how to respond to that except to urge Blaine not to move from his bed. She was about to draw the curtain closed between them when she heard the telltale sound of urination. As she suspected, her charge was missing his mark. She helped him to aim properly and then cleaned up the mess.

"Here, Kurt, let's get you all tucked back in. Look, I brought you extra blankets." Carole pulled Kurt's medical gown back over his privates and then tucked two blankets securely around him. With luck, they would hold until she and Burt were out of the room. 

"I love blankets!"

"I know, Honey."

"You're a really nice mom."

"Thank you, Kurt."

"Blaine's ship is leaking. I should go help him."

With a gentle press of her hands, Carole managed to keep Kurt from getting out of bed. She turned her attention to the other horny teenager in the room, grateful to see that Burt had already helped the boy with his own bladder needs and was getting him settled under the covers.

Burt disposed of his gloves and covered Blaine with another blanket. "So how long until happy hour is over?"

Carole looked at their charts. "Given the cocktail they're on, they'll be asleep soon. With any luck, they won't remember any of this happened in front of us."

"Could I have some of that?"

Carole laughed and kissed her husband's cheek. "At least they've turned to singing songs about pirates."

"Thank god for that."

* * * * * * *

"Carole, why does my shoulder hurt worse than it did before?"

Carole paused in her movements of checking Kurt's IV bag, "They had to repair a tendon in it. You don't remember?"

Kurt thought hard, but was coming up with mostly fog. "I remember dreaming about pirates. I think they were naked."

"No naked pirates, Sweetie. Just a torn tendon. You were moving the arm so much that you dislocated your shoulder again. The closed reduction put it back in place, but the doctors were worried there was further damage. Since you're on such heavy medication and the swelling on your face has gone down, Doctor Howell is going to fix that that tooth of yours today."

"And then what?"

Carole sighed. The kid wasn't fighting the procedures anymore, resigned to the belief that his fate was out of his hands. "Doctor Jones will want a follow-up exam to see if the antibiotics are working, how your abrasions are healing, and if there's any new signs of infection. There will be more blood work of course, but that would have happened anyway given the extent of your injuries. Aside from that shoulder, you're healing well, Kurt. It shouldn't be more than a few more days. Blaine too. I took off work for the rest of the week so I could be here for you."

"You didn't have to."

"You needed me, Honey. Am I wrong?"

"No." Kurt pressed his IV'ed hand against Carole's arm, still ashamed for his earlier outburst and trying to make up for it. She wasn't his mom, but she was the next closest thing. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Kurt gave the woman a smirk, hoping to lighten the mood further. "Did you come to torture me some more?"

"No, just change out your IV."

"So, that's a yes."

Carole pulled a few items out of her bag and set them next to Kurt on his bed. "I also brought you some old, human-centric magazines. In case you weren't feeling tormented enough by me."

"I always thought you were evil." 

"I know, Sweetie." Carole laughed at his smirk. "At least I didn't come bearing Boost. They don't want you to eat until after the dental work."

All the joy from the banter he'd had with Carole drained out of him. "Right. I think I'm going to sleep some more if that's okay. I'll look at the magazines later."

"I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks."

Carole left the room with a quiet sigh. She had tried, but there was only so much she could do for the poor kid while he was here.

* * * * * * *

Kurt begged his brain to forget the dental procedure he'd undergone to fix his tooth. For all the horrors he'd faced in the clinic since that first night, this was the worst. He'd been forced to keep still while people did unnatural things to his mouth with instruments that were nothing but an unending loop of pain and piercing sounds. Devices that would surely would have killed him if he'd moved. Those same people kept talking at him with words he couldn't understand, but wanted him to respond to. Which of course he couldn't because he wasn't allowed to move. Humans were so fucking stupid. That was on top of the god awful smell that made him want to vomit. Every time he had gagged, they'd just stuck something else in his mouth that made it worse. And fuck their needles full of Novocain. They hadn't done shit. Nor did the meds Carole swore were still in his IV. Fuck Doctor Carl and his disarming bedside manner. He was never going to fall for that bullshit again. It wasn't a "simple procedure that shouldn't take more than an hour or two." It was an eternity of torture. Fucking hell, his mouth hurt!

* * * * * * *

"Things are looking good, Kurt. The abrasions on your penis have healed and I'm not seeing any new signs of STI's. I'll give you some cream to help with the scarring around your anus. If you ever chose to stimulate yourself in that area or engage in anal sex, I'd recommend going slow and to stretch yourself thoroughly. If it hurts, stop. If you feel anything has torn or if there's any bleeding or unusual discharge, come see me or another doctor as soon as possible. To be on the safe side, it would be best if you refrained from all sexual activity for another week. When you do start back up again, use protection and plenty of lubricant. I'll have your blood test and cultures back in a few days and will let you know the results."

Why did Doctor Jones have to talk during the entire exam? Why couldn't she just let him pretend that his dick and butt weren't being touched? That fingers and instruments weren't being inserted into his ass. And gods, fucking, all the hell no's, he was never going to have sex there. Ever. Blaine was more than fine with that. He topped Blaine because he had never been forced to perform that act on others and his boyfriend had never been forced to bottom. It was a first they had gotten to share together with complete consent and trust. But he couldn't even think about those happy times because now the same alien probe from before was being pulled out of his lubed asshole that was on display and being wiped by Carole. 

He was so done with this clinic - this hospital wannabe that was supposed to be for hybrids. Yet, fuck it all, he'd only seen one mixed hybrid doctor and maybe two other hybrid nurses and staff. Before the laws had turned on his race, they'd been allowed an education. Maybe all the smart ones had fled to Canada or Iceland. He'd heard good things about Iceland. 

"Hey, Kurt, can you come back to me? It's all over now. You're cleaned up, covered, and I'm not going to touch you anymore. Are you okay?"

Kurt glared at the doctor. "Never again."

"I respect your feelings about that. However, should something happen, I urge you to get checked out. If not by me, then someone else. STI's can do a lot of damage if they go untreated for too long." That her patient met her warnings with only silence didn't surprise her. She retrieved a business card from her pocket and placed it beside him on the examination table. "This is the number to a therapist. Miss Pillsbury comes highly recommended. You wouldn't be the first she's treated who spent time at the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory."

"Can't afford it."

"She offers a sliding scale and also takes on a few pro bono cases. Her cleaning business pays for the clients who can't afford, but need, her help."

Kurt eyed the card warily. What kind of therapist would think that "Healing for the Hopeless" was a good slogan? "Is she human?"

"No. Full hybrid."

That was something at least. "I'll think about it."

The doctor picked up her clipboard and nodded her thanks to Nurse Carole. "Take care of yourself, Kurt. I'm sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances."

Kurt closed his eyes and turned his head away, ignoring the pain it caused. He fucking hated this place.

* * * * * * *

Kurt did as he was told. He got up on the table, closed his eyes, and let the nurse and technician manipulate his body however they wanted. It didn't matter anymore if the movements hurt. Their half-hearted apologies and attempts to cover him back up after his gown was pulled down or up or removed all together held no weight. They were going to take their scans or do their exam whether he wanted them too or not. He felt the press of a heavy, leaded blanket as it was placed over his waist and genitals. Guess this one was an X-ray. He thought about making a bet with himself if they'd find something else broken or not-quite healed and make him stay longer, but what would it matter. He had lost all body autonomy and this hell was never going to end.

* * * * * * *

Kurt awoke to the feeling of his arm being jostled, and tried to cling to the wisps of a song he had been singing with his boyfriend. They had been in a chalet, snow falling outside, and they were singing and dancing. Old Lady Mercedes was there too, only she was as young as he was, and her rich voice was breathtaking.

He heard something about blood, so he stuck out the arm not bound by a sling and focused back on the chalet. Sam had joined in on the singing now and he was pretty sure he was dating Mercedes.

Scoot to the edge of the bed, lift his gown, clean the top of his dick with a sanitary wipe, pee into a cup. Why they couldn't just take a sample from his urinal, he didn't know. 

Remain sitting and accept the straw placed to his lips. Drink the can of liquid that tasted like a Terminator's ass mixed with rotted fish. 

Gown back up to the point of barely-existent coverage and why did it matter if they'd just seen his dick, so the ACE bandages on his thigh could be removed.

Lie back down so ice packs could be applied. Because nothing said make the patient need to pee like a race horse than filling them full of fluids before covering half of their body with frozen bags of water.

Kurt closed his eyes and willed his brain to get back to the musical chalet. Not even Carole, Burt, or Blaine could cheer him up anymore. Nothing did. At least while asleep, he didn't have to deal with reality.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Kiddo, you ready to go home?"

Kurt looked up from the magazine on his lap. He wasn't even sure what magazine it was to be honest. Only that the clothes were ugly and the advice columnist was full of internalized sexist, misogynist, patriarchal bullshit. At least the IV was gone and he could turn the pages without help. "Am I dreaming again?"

"No, Bud. We've got everything set up for you and Blaine. Carole thought the living room would be best for now. I know it doesn't offer a lot of privacy, but the couch folds out into a bed and it's close to the bathroom and kitchen. Plus, there's the TV and computer. I cleaned out the spare bedroom for when you two are more mobile. You can paint it and fix it up however you like."

"No more back porch?"

"Not unless you want it." Burt adjusted his cap, wishing his wife was with him. She was better at these things. "We can't adopt you legally, Kurt, but we're working on something close to it. It's just going to take a little time. That is, if you'll have us."

It wasn't the first time Kurt had thought about the possibility of this, hoping that he hadn't been reading Burt and Carole wrong. The things they said and did, the way they treated him - it had always felt parental. Burt had even said such early on, when he was still sleeping outside. To be a permanent part of a family again would be really nice. "Okay."

"I'm real glad to hear it."

Kurt looked down and to the side, working up the courage to ask what was on his mind. "Am I supposed to call you 'Dad' now?"

"You can call me whatever you'd like. Can I call you 'Son'?"

"I'd like that." Kurt saw Burt, his new dad, the only dad he'd ever had, get up from the chair and step closer to him before pulling back, unsure if his actions were wanted. "You can hug me if you want to."

"I'd really like that, Kiddo." Burt wrapped his arms around his boy, minding his shoulder. He was a lucky man to have such great kids. 

Their hug was made better when Carole came into the room, discharge papers in hand. She didn't need to ask the question, but did anyway. "He said yes?" 

"Yes."

Carole joined her boys in their hug. "Welcome to the family, my sweet Kurt."

"Thanks...Carole Mom."

"Carole Mom?"

Kurt shrugged. He didn't know what else to call her.

Carole couldn't imagine having a better kid as a second son. Blaine came with the package, as she and Burt would never turn him away. Yet, Kurt was the one that felt like their own and they were lucky to have him in their lives. "I can live with that."


	7. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt returns to the Hummels with a mix of emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene is adaptation of the Klaine Advent one shot: Attachment. The writing style isn't quite the same as the rest of this fic, but I let it stand because it said everything I needed it to. This is a fairly tame chapter compared to the others. Hope you enjoy. This chapter was revised on February 2, 2018. Changes included a fix to a time line reference and minor grammatical & punctuation corrections.

\------------

They were on the way home from the emergency clinic, slowing down at a yellow light, when Kurt realized where they were. "Can you pull over? Not too close. I just want to see...if there's anything left?"

"Sure, Kiddo." When the light turned green, Burt made a left into the rundown shopping center. As per Kurt's instructions, he parked his truck in the back of the closed McDonald's, close enough to the building to be hidden in the shadows, yet at an angle that allowed an unobstructed view of the abandoned K-Mart's loading bay. 

Kurt sat with Blaine in the back seat, bundled under a blanket that hid the multiple bandages and braces protecting their injuries, and stared out the window forlornly. Maybe others would find it weird, having an attachment to such a place, but as two gay, homeless hybrids with the world against them, it had been a haven.

They had called it "Blaine's place" since he was the one who had found it last summer and moved in, back before Kurt had met him and was still sleeping under the Hummels' front porch. But they had shared so much there, so many firsts, they thought of it as theirs. 

Kurt had taught Blaine how to build a better shelter from the old pallets, one with escape routes. They had kissed and washed each other in the employee bathroom. Being touched for the first time with consent, no judgments from either for the abuses they'd endured in their pasts. Kurt had told Blaine that his scars proved he was strong, a survivor who had come out of hell alive, and Blaine had told him the same.

They'd shared New Year's Eve dinner there, stuffed beyond belief with shrimp...shrimp!...and lasagna and every hors d'oeuvre known to human and hybrid kind, and cheesecake. Carole had wanted to provide for "her boys" and provided she had.

They had sung showtunes in there and Katy Perry and Madonna. Poured over every last one of Kurt's old copies of Vogue. He had become an expert at finding them. 

Blaine gently nudged Kurt's good shoulder, his face distraught. "They're ruined. Why did they have to tear them up?" The high drama, sexually impossible hybrid romance novels they had spent hours reading and laughing over now lay in ruins on the slush covered ground. Pages whipped away by swirls of wind, landing in the leafless trees and snow filled yards of nearby houses. 

Kurt could swear he saw a ripped off cover on the ground, tainted by the blood from where they'd been left for dead, beaten up by a local gang who had decided that gay boys shouldn't be allowed to exist. "I loved those books."

"I loved reading them to you. At least they didn't get everything, Kurt." Blaine opened his coat, reveling his old Dalton blazer. The patch had been removed, as per his boyfriend's instructions, to help blend in on the streets. Yet he'd left the initials "K. E." sewn to the fabric where it had once been covered by it. The hidden mark a defiant Kurt, former resident of the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory, had added to each garment he and his fellow juvie inmates were forced to sew for the fancy prep school boys. That is, until the Pure Race Nationalists burned it down. Money no longer meant anything when your entire sentient race was stripped of their rights by a bigoted ruler.

Kurt traced the letters with a bandaged hand and offered a small smile. "You still have me."

"I'll always have you."

Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his boyfriend's lips and leaned his head on his shoulder. "Can we go now, Burt...Dad?"

"Sure thing, Son. We'll be home in no time."

Kurt and Blaine took one last look at the loading bay, its large metal door open and exposing the remnants of the life that had once been lived inside. Maybe it was odd becoming attached to such a place, but it had been their home.

* * * * * * *

As Kurt stepped into the living room, he tried to follow along everything that Burt and Carole were telling him. It was a lot to take in though including the fact that he was returning to a place he had feared he'd never be allowed again. After blowing up at Finn and running away and everything that happened before and after the assault, it was weird being back here. Not as a guest, but as a permanent part of the family. He hadn't been someone's son in a long time. He couldn't help but smile every time Burt called him that.

"Son, Carole found a fancy partition on clearance at one of those home goods discount stores. It won't offer a lot, but you won't be able to be seen from the kitchen should you boys need some privacy." 

"It's nice. Thank you."

"We got clothes set up for you on that plastic shelving behind the couch and we'll get you whatever you need if those aren't easy enough to get into. And there's robes and plenty of pillows and blankets. And Kurt, I found a mini-fridge on clearance, put a lock on it, and set it up on the back porch for you. The key is on top. Your cabinet area in the kitchen is still yours, but there's some empty totes by the mini-fridge that you can use." Burt picked up a small antique bell that had belonged to his mother from the end table on the couch's left side. "Ring this if you need us. Blaine, you got one too. There's bed pans and urinals in case you boys don't think you can make it to the bathroom on time. We'll be around as much as we can, but we've got a home health aide comin' for the times we can't. You know him, Son. Sam, who helps your friend Mercedes? If you're not comfortable with him though, we can find someone else."

Carole loved her husband's anxious ramble, but it needed to end. "Burt, why don't we let the boys sit down on the bed?"

"Oh, right! Sorry, Kiddo. Just nervous."

"It's okay. Me too." Kurt leaned on his new dad in a sort of hug as he was helped to the fold out couch. The cane he'd been given wasn't all that convenient indoors or for short distances. He was grateful to Carole for helping Blaine. His boyfriend had crutches, but the cast on his wrist made using them awkward. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hummel."

"Carole, Blaine. This is your home now too."

Blaine smiled as he wiggled his way past the couch's armrest so that his back was propped up by the pillows. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sweetie. While I help you two get situated, Burt can go get dinner. What would you like?"

"No Boost!"

Carole laughed, pleased when the rest of her family joined in. "Not a single can in the house, Kurt. I swear."

Burt dug a take-out menu from the kitchen's recipe drawer and brought it over to the living room. "How about those beef and chicken low mien noodles from the Chinese place? Would those be soft enough for you, Son?"

Kurt's eyes lit up at the offer of real food. "Yes!"

"How about you, Blaine?"

"I can eat anything."

"Rub it in why don't you?" Kurt gave his boyfriend a smirk and playful shove that ended up in a gasp of pain. "Wrong shoulder. That was stupid. Pain killers. I want the pain killer fried rice with a side of muscle relaxer dumplings, please."

"Don't worry, we'll have you flying high in no time. First, dinner and getting your coats and boots off. How's that sound?" At their nod, Carole turned to her husband. "Let's get these boys a welcome home dinner." She gave a wink to Kurt. "For dessert, I may or may not have made cheesecake."

"Strip faster, Blaine, there's cheesecake in our future!"

After Burt...his dad...left, Kurt began to undress with the help of his Carole Mom. Blaine had tried to help him too, but Carole insisted he take it easy for the sake of his own injuries. Kurt wasn't sure how many they had between them. In the clinic, the number seemed to keep changing. Preferring to forget that place, he concentrated on the embarrassing question that was being asked of him - choosing between keeping on his hybrid designed underwear and sweatpants or changing into modified human long johns, which would feel weird, but might allow for easier bathroom times. 

"Can I stick with what I have? Without the IV, it should be easier for me to go on my own."

"Of course, Honey. If you change your mind, they'll be on this shelf. There's flannel boxer shorts too like Blaine has if you'd prefer. Whatever you need or think might work better, just let us know. How about your shirts?"

Kurt looked down at his long-sleeved hoodie with a single pocket that stretched across the front. It was thin enough to fit into his sling and be layered for extra warmth if needed. The white sleeveless-undershirt he wore underneath was pleasantly soft and didn't irritate his bandages. "I like them. They were a good idea. Thank you." His boots now removed, he realized what he'd been missing. "Could I have socks? They wouldn't let me wear them at the clinic. I don't know why."

Carole found him a pair and helped him put them on. She did know why Kurt didn't have any socks, but didn't want to tell him that he kept taking them off in his bouts of depression, swearing the less he had on, the less strangers had to remove when they went to touch him. "All better or would you like a second pair?"

"I'm fine. Maybe another pair later if it gets too cold?"

"They'll be right here for you with the rest of your clothes." She turned to her other charge. "How are you doing Blaine?"

"I got my coat and blazer off. I'm sorry that I couldn't do more by myself."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Honey."

Kurt limped around to his boyfriend's side of the couch bed. "I have use of my left arm. You have use of your right. We can do this together. How about my OSU hoodie? No buttons or zippers and it'll fit over your cast and Warblers T-shirt."

"And my pants?"

"I see no reason for you to wear pants." Kurt noticed everyone staring at him, mouths open. "I said that out loud didn't I?"

Blaine gave his boyfriend a wide grin. "I'm sure it's the drugs."

"I think I'm going to go sit down at the kitchen table and not take your pants off in front of my new mom."

Carole laughed at her son. Things were certainly going to be more interesting in their home now that the boys would be around more often. "Blaine, I cut the lower half of the leg of a pair of sweatpants off for you and I went up a size to make them easier for you to get on and off over your cast. And I'm going to ask you the same question I asked Kurt. What would you like to do about underwear? I can modify long johns for you just as easily as the sweatpants."

"The hybrid made flannel boxers are fine, thank you."

"Alright. With the freezing weather, we thought full sweats would be best to bring you home in. You can keep them on if you'd prefer."

"I'd like the cut off ones, please. Easier to scratch under my cast that way." Blaine was grateful for the help in changing. His depth perception and balance were still off, and from what he was told by the doctors, would be until his eye had healed further from the punch that landed him in a pile of rock salt and slush. He'd been fortunate that he hadn't lost it altogether. It was the end of his tail he missed the most. The reminder of it brought back every time he had to put it in the sling strapped around his waist so that the bandaged end could heal and the repaired dislocated joint would be supported. His thoughts were interrupted by another question.

"Would you like a sock for your foot or some slippers?"

"Neither, thank you."

Carole looked the boys over and realized what she'd forgotten. "Hats! Do either of you need a hat?" 

"I'm good."

"Me too."

"Anyone need a bandage check?" 

"We were checked over before we left. It's only been a couple of hours."

"Sorry, Blaine. You're right. It's the nurse and mom in me. Honestly, It's been a rollercoaster of a week and I'm so glad that you're safe and home."

Kurt looked around the kitchen from where he sat and let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and quietly whispered, "So am I."

* * * * * * *

Burt arrived with dinner a short time later. It was a happy exchange of little things, but it was clear that everyone would need time to adjust. There was only so much that could be talked about regarding the shop, the weather, and non-political news. 

Kurt picked at his food, trying to force himself to take another bite, but was unable to do so. "Can I have the cheesecake tomorrow, Carole...Carole Mom? I'm really tired."

"Of course."

"I'll wrap your food up for you and put your name on it, Bud."

Kurt gave his dad a smile. "Thank you."

"Do you need help getting tucked into bed?"

Kurt looked down at his plate and then back at Burt. He didn't think he needed help, but had a feeling it was a parental thing, so he agreed. "Okay. I just have to um...you know...first."

"Do you need help, Kurt?"

"I'm fine, Blaine. Do you?"

"I think I can manage. I'll wait here until you're out. I'm pretty tired too."

Kurt heard an offer to wrap up Blaine's leftovers as well as he entered the downstairs bathroom. It was a relief to be alone for the first time in what felt like weeks. It was odd being back here. His toothbrush was where he'd left it before he ran away. There was a fresh tube of toothpaste in the cup beside it. He could do this. He could be here, in this space, with these people. "One step forward. Two steps back" is what Burt had said. He was taking that step forward and was going to take another, and hope that any back wouldn't come until much later. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, something he'd never had a chance to do at the clinic. Parts of his face and head were shaved where he'd gotten stitches, fading purple bruising surrounding most of them. His right eye and both side of his jaw were still badly bruised from the punches he'd received. He hated this reminder of being other, of being not human, not like them who didn't get shaved, or at least not noticeably. He was surprised the human medical staff hadn't put the cone of shame around his neck like they did their pets. 

Turning away from the mirror, he relieved himself, glad that he didn't need any help, and washed his usable hand. Washing, there was another thing he was grateful for being able to do alone. If he wasn't so exhausted, he'd have taken a shower.

Sleep and to stop thinking so much is what he needed. The meds he'd been given during dinner were making him loopy. 

After giving the mirror one last peak and glare, Kurt returned to the living room. The blankets and quilts had been turned down and a number of pillows awaited him. So did his new parents with their willing, but cautious hugs and kisses to the top of his head as they tucked him in. He thanked them and smiled as best he could, holding back the tears of how much the fond acts reminded him of his mom. It didn't seem real that he got to have this again. 

Leaning on Burt for support, Blaine returned from his own turn in the bathroom and was tucked in as well. They snuggled close together, missing this part of their relationship that their time at the clinic had prevented. 

The living room lights were turned off and his new parents bid him goodnight one last time. Kurt drifted off to the sounds of their murmured chatting in the kitchen and his boyfriend's soft breathing. Things were going to be better. He was finally home.

* * * * * * *

Kurt woke up in the middle of the night, his bladder refusing to let him remain warm under the covers and wrapped in the arms of his boyfriend. He stumbled in the darkness, letting out a curse when his toe encountered the edge of the coffee table, and eventually found his way to the bathroom. The bright light bothered his eyes and he blinked until they'd adjusted. Two whole trips to use the toilet and no one but himself was there to watch, collect a specimen, or wipe his ass and dick. He could get used to this again, even if it was awkward to do one handed. He was in his own clothes now too. If he ever saw another medical gown he was going to burn it.

By leaving the bathroom light on and the door open a crack, Kurt was able to make his way to the kitchen, and then to the back porch. Softly closing the door behind him, he turned on the light. The first thing he noticed was that the inflatable mattress was still there, the bedding looking freshly washed. Even the two pillows had been plumped up, ready to be used in case sleeping in the living room became too much for him. That Burt had thought to provide this kindness touched him. When he peered into the tote at the foot of the bed, he discovered that the clothes he'd left here had been washed as well and neatly folded. There were some new garments too, bought from the hybrid store from the look of them. 

The mini-fridge and the key sitting on top was were he'd been told they were. He unlocked the door and peered inside. A Rubbermaid container holding two slices of cheesecake had been placed inside along with two plastic forks, some napkins, and bottles of juice and water. Carole knew how to win his heart. 

They really were good people and were going to be great parents. It was just going to take some time to adjust. He'd been living under their direct care in some form or another for five or six months now. Only a few weeks though had been spent inside their house and he'd gone and fucked that up. Then he'd left and gotten fucked up. Robbed of his independence and body autonomy, stripped against his will, his ability to fight back crushed. Burt and Carole had been there, offering a hand back up, and asking nothing in return. It was different and unusual. He could count on one hand the people he'd met who would do the same. It was a nice relief to have it in his life, to have this break. Adjusting to it all was going to be awkward and hard and scary, but he could do this. He wanted it more than he was willing to let himself admit. 

Kurt took the cheesecake out of the min-fridge and put the key where he'd found it. Turning off the light and closing the door behind him, he entered the kitchen and moved the container to the main fridge, placing it beside others labeled with his name on the shelf set aside for him. It was a step forward. That's all he could offer in return.


	8. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine recover at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fun times than angst. Thanks to all you lovely people who leave comments. You give me such great ideas and keep me going. ((hugs to you all)) This chapter was revised on February 2, 2018.

"Kurt, Blaine, time to wake up."

"Why?" Kurt pulled a blanket over his head, shielding his eyes from the living room lamp.

"Breathing exercises, ice packs, bandage check. Carole gave me a whole list."

"We didn't have to yesterday."

"She was giving you boys a break. And honestly, we kind of forgot in all the excitement of bringing you home."

"Can I bribe you with anything to get out of it?"

"No, but I can bribe you." Burt retreated to the kitchen and soon returned with two steaming mugs. "I made coffee."

Kurt's ears perked up and he tugged the blanket off his face. "Coffee? You're the best dad ever!"

Burt laughed and set down a mug for each boy on their nightstands. "Blaine, did you need milk in yours?"

As he sat up, Blaine wiped at his face, forgetting about his eyepatch and having to pull it back into place. "Black is fine, thank you."

"You've got ten minutes while I make eggs and then I want to see pillows on your chests and lungs filling with air. The deeper the breaths the better. Got it?"

Kurt gave his dad a surly look. "It hurts like hell when I do that."

"I know, Kiddo, and I'm sorry, but Carole says it'll fight off you getting pneumonia. Once you've eaten, you can take your meds so the next round will be less painful."

"Okay." Kurt took a sip of his coffee, still finding it awkward to not use his dominant hand. He would never say it out loud, but he liked stern Burt. It felt parental and he knew the man was doing it out of love. He knew mean. He knew abusive. This wasn't it and painful deep breaths inside a warm house with breakfast being cooked for him sure as hell beat tying a gross old pair of nylons he found behind the 7-11 around his chest the last time his ribs had been broken.

"How many are we supposed to do, Mister Hummel?"

Kurt couldn't believe his boyfriend. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because I want to get it over with, same as you, and I'd rather do it right the first time."

"Coffee first and as few as possible, Blaine."

"Coffee during and as many as needed, Kurt."

"Priorities, Blaine!"

"Stop bickering, boys so I can read Carole's instructions." Burt sighed and stopped cracking eggs into a bowl. He picked up the note his wife had left for him. "Deep breaths and light coughs until Kurt wears you down. Try to get at least five minutes in. Then breakfast, medications - pills are dosed out in the organizers, bandage check - see diagrams and medical kit for additional instructions and supplies, bathroom break, ice packs for thirty minutes - see diagrams for where they go. Repeat the breathing exercises and ice packs every two to three hours. No showers! Sponge baths only until their stitches are out. Make sure their casts and wounds are covered with plastic bags if they bathe. Kurt and Blaine can help each other if they feel up to it. If not, I can help when I get home. See attached notes on bathing after surgery and with broken bones. Good luck, Burt. I'll see you tonight. Try not to let Kurt run the show. Things should get easier for you once their meds kick in. Love, Carole." 

Burt entered the living room and read the note out loud, skipping the comments about their son. "I know it sucks, but if you want to get better, this is how it's got to be. I'm already breaking the rules by giving you boys breakfast first, but seeing as how I didn't get a chance to make it before the complaints began, why don't you get started on your breathing? Put down your coffee cup, Kurt."

With a glare directed at both people in the room, Kurt complied. "Fine." He set his mug on the end table-night stand and leaned forward so his dad could prop up his back with pillows. He took the offered spare pillow and held it against his chest. Deep breaths and coughing sucked. They sucked. They sucked. They fucking sucked and hurt like hell. How Blaine was able to only frown in discomfort when he had more ribs broken than him, he didn't know. 

The apple-shaped kitchen timer Burt had set dinged. "All done. You boys did good. Kurt? A little less cursing next time. There are other words you can use than those inappropriate ones. Drink your coffee while I finish your eggs. Do either of you want toast?"

"That would be nice, Sir."

"Kurt?"

"No, thank you. Hurts to chew."

"Watch some TV if you want. It shouldn't take long." Burt rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and returned to the kitchen, never expecting it to ever be a haven for him. Blaine took everything in stride but didn't let Kurt dominate him which was good. Kurt? The kid was scared and in pain. There was sweetness under that bravado. He'd seen it from the beginning. Yet within the five minutes of getting the kid to work his lungs, he'd heard more f-bombs than when Finn had his football buddies over. 

Burt cracked the rest of the eggs into the bowl and was about to whisk them when he heard the creak of the fold out couch followed by muttered cursing and the bathroom door shutting. He sighed. It was going to be a long day and he sensed beer in his future. 

* * * * * * *

Ice packs returned to the freezer, another coffee and bathroom break taken, and the boys settled on the bed once again, Burt turned to the next item on the list. "Did you poop?" Burt sighed. He didn't want to ask the question any more than his son wanted to hear it. "Carole needs to know if the stool softeners are working."

Kurt looked at his dad with incredulity. "You're giving me laxatives?!"

"I'm giving you what your highly skilled and educated, nurse practitioner mom said to give you to counteract the side effects of the prescription pain medication. Once you can switch to Advil or Tylenol, she'll take you off them. So did you go?"

"The toilet almost overflowed."

"I'll take that as a yes. Blaine?"

Blaine tried to hide his discomfort. He'd been trained since birth not to discuss such things within earshot of polite company or anyone really. It was undignified and unworthy of an Anderson. But he wasn't really an Anderson anymore and technically never had been given his paternal ancestry. "It was harder to, but eventually I did." 

Burt wrote down the boys answers on the instruction sheet and then read off the next question. "Are either of you bleeding or experiencing an unusual discharge?"

"From our rectums?"

"Eww, gross, Blaine! He meant our wounds." 

Beer, beer now would be good. "Are you experiencing such a thing, Kid?"

"Oh, no, Sir. I just wanted a clarification of the question."

"Kurt was right. I'm to check your stitches and see if any bandages need changing." He looked at the diagrams and sighed. He hadn't realized that they both had cuts on their legs and Blaine some on his bottom as well. "Son, Blaine, if you'd feel more comfortable, you two can check your...covered areas...and I'll look at your heads, shoulders, arms, and tails."

Kurt took a deep breath, eyes wide, now understanding that the "bandage check" meant all of them and not just the ones he could easily see. He trusted Burt, but was grateful he and Blaine were given the option of privacy. "That's nice of you to offer. Thank you. Um..."

"How about we start with the easy stuff, Kiddo?" At Kurt's nod of agreement, Burt put on a pair of disposable gloves and started examining his son. The poor kid's face and back of his head were a mess. He wanted to kill the bastards that had beaten him. "If you move the collar of your hoodie, I think I can check out the stitches on your shoulder without needing to remove it."

"What about the stitches on my back and abdomen?"

"I thought Blaine could look at those, Kid."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Kurt tilted his head in his boyfriend's direction where he was excitedly grasping at invisible objects in the air. 

"Aren't butterflies pretty, Kurt? They have all the colors. Look, here's one that has your eyes. You have such pretty eyes, Kurt. They're green and blue like these butterflies!"

"That's really nice, Blaine. Thank you." He turned back to his dad. "Why don't my drugs work like that?"

"Oh, they do, Son. Give it a few more minutes and you'll be tripping just as hard."

"What do I talk about?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Good answer. Let's get you finished up and you can help me with Butterfly Boy."

They laughed together and managed to get Kurt's sweatpants and shirts off with few gasps of pain. As at the clinic, Kurt was grateful for his dad's gentle and considerate nature, only touching when needed and never inappropriately. After everything checked out and fresh bandages put on the two spots that needed them, they turned to the boy having giggle fits. The butterflies, apparently, were now telling him jokes. 

"Butt sounds like butterfly. The butterflies are tickling my butt, Kurt!"

"No, it's just me, Sweetie, checking out your bandages."

"Butt, butterfly, bandages, Blaine!" 

Kurt pulled his boyfriend's underwear and pants back up and called out. "I'm all done, Dad. He's fine. You can come back in." He wrinkled his nose when the man reentered the room. "He smells. So do I. We need a bath."

Burt rubbed the top of his head and put back on his cap. "Can it wait till he's done trippin', Bud? I don't think either of us could wrangle him in the bathroom when he's like this."

"Okay. I think I'll take a nap or go catch butterflies with Blaine. They're amazing!"

"You go do that, Son. Have fun." Burt shook his head at his boys' antics and headed straight for the fridge. Now was the perfect time for lunch and that beer.

 

* * * * * * *

"Honey, I'm home!"

"In here, Dear."

"Did the boys give you any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." Burt met his wife at the front door and gave her a kiss before helping her out of her coat. "They're watching some fashion reality show right now."

Carole peered into the dimly lit living room and gave her husband an odd look. "The TV isn't on."

Burt chuckled at the sounds coming from the room. "I know this and you know this. They don't." 

"Just because you're gay, does not mean you know anything about fashion! Oh, no, that bitch did not just say that!"

"They'd better kick her bigoted ass off the island. That dress she designed is hideous."

"He's totally doing the cameraman."

"How can you tell?"

"All the close-ups of his ass. The trim on that hem is not that interesting."

"He does have a nice ass."

"Ooh, time for the judging! Hand me the bowl, Blaine. I'm going to need more popcorn for this."

Keeping his voice low, Burt took his coat off the hook by the door. "Are you sure you're okay with me getting a couple of hours in at the shop? I can stay if you need me."

Carole held her finger to her lips and whispered her reply. "I think I'll be just fine."

* * * * * * *

"No shower, Kurt!"

"Fine!" Kurt huffed his annoyance and turned off the water. Damn humans and their not as inferior as he thought hearing. He filled up the sink with warm water and got the wash cloth wet, deciding to get the areas around his stitches first before soaping it up for the rest of his body. If Blaine wasn't asleep, this would have been easier to do or at least fun. He thought about having some personal enjoyment, but his human mom could probably hear that too.

He cleaned himself as best he could, glad to get most of the stink off. Who knew you could get that sweaty lying around in bed all day. At least he no longer smelled like the clinic.

Mostly dry, he wigged into his boxer briefs, put the robe around his shoulders, and walked out of the bathroom to find Carole. He was going to need her help for the rest. He found her in the kitchen, medical supplies ready and waiting on the table. 

He liked that Carole chatted about work as she tended to his injuries, filling him in on all the gossip and interesting cases. It was better than any soap opera, especially when she got to the part about the attending physician's patient testing positive for mono. Mono which both he and another doctor were likely to get seeing as how the first doctor was fooling around with both of them, and rumor had it, one of the lab techs as well.

"You're looking good, Kurt."

"I look like shit."

"Medically speaking. No signs of infection and your bruises are healing. Do you want to get dressed before dinner or just wear your robe for now?"

There was no need to debate that question in his mind. "Dressed. I'll go get my clothes."

"I'll be right here for whatever you need help with." Her son's forlorn face broke her heart and she gave him a gentle, half hug. "This won't be forever, Kurt. You will get better."

"Not soon enough."

* * * * * * *

"No!"

"Kurt, we discussed this. You need to have your stitches taken out."

"There was no discussion. Discussion involves two people talking things over. I didn't talk and I didn't agree to this. I'm not going back there. You take them out."

"Legally, I can't, Kurt. I'm a nurse, not a doctor."

"And I'm a hybrid with no legal rights. You could do anything you wanted to me and no one would bat an eye because it wouldn't be *illegal* to do it. How the hell do you think I got this way?"

"Kurt! Apologize to your Carole...mother. You knew this was comin'. We didn't lie to you or try to trick you in any way. Blaine's already waiting in the truck."

"I'm sorry. It's not your fault." Kurt picked up his coat with his good arm, glaring at it with all the anger and resentment he couldn't direct at his new parents. "I'll go, but I refuse to have that damn probe shoved up my ass again!"

"I explained this before, Kurt. You'll be given a routine check up, a couple of X-rays, maybe a CT scan, and then have your stitches removed. That's all. Unless your test results have come back positive for something that needs looked at, there won't be another genital and rectal exam."

"No medical gown."

"Kurt, you know that's standard procedure."

Kurt crossed his good arm over his chest. "They can't make me wear it."

Burt shook his head at his wife, silently asking her to drop the subject. Without any more resistance, they were able to get their surly teenager into his coat and seated in the back of the truck. As they headed off, he let out a deep, silent sigh. It was going to be a very long day for all of them. 

True to his word, Kurt refused to wear the medical gown. He allowed the attending nurse and Carole to help him out of his clothes, all of his clothes, and then he sat there on the exam table, smug and naked as the day he was born, bad arm in the sling, mobile arm batting away any attempts to put the garment on him. If he was going to be poked and prodded it was going to be on his terms this time and without their half-assed attempts to protect his modesty. Now he had no modesty for them to lie about protecting and they could stare at his dangling dick and balls the entire day for all he cared. 

The only concession he made was allowing the orderlies to cover him with a blanket as he was wheeled down the hallways to and from the X-ray and CT rooms, and then back to Exam Room 4. The minute he was in each new place, it was bye-bye blanket, hello deal with his naked bits as he dealt with their moving his body in ways that of course still hurt like hell. It'd only been a fucking week and a half since he'd had the shit beaten out of him. What school did you go to, Doctor Carl and Doctor Person Who'd Apparently Done His Shoulder Repair? Did you actually graduate or just get your fake degrees off the internet?

He allowed Doctor Jones to enter the exam area after she'd sworn she was only there to deliver his test results. He stared at her intently the entire time, watching every move, waiting for her to break her promise and put on a pair of gloves. Only when she left after giving him the results of his blood work and cultures and a brief, clinical glance at his exposed genitalia, did the tension release from his body. It annoyed him though, hearing her tell Carole to contact the therapist, Miss Pillsbury, and that the sessions would be covered by one of the clinic's prolific donors.

"Kurt, can I come in?"

"Who's with you?"

"Just me. I brought you some lunch and Advil."

"Okay." Kurt pulled the blanket over his lap. He wasn't mad at his mom anymore and she'd faced enough of his nude wrath today. "Did they make you give me Boost?"

"No, Sweetie. You get real food this time. Beef broth and Jell-O."

"That's not real food."

"It is until you feel up to eating more solids."

Kurt waited patiently until Carole had pulled the lids off his lunch containers and moved the mobile table over his bed. Then he picked up a spoon and began to eat. "I've had worse."

"The garage mice?"

Kurt shook his head. "Spoiled milk and moldy meat. You can't always tell until it's too late and sometimes you don't have a choice."

"You do now."

He shrugged at his mom and gave her a sad smile. "I got arrested and locked up for eight years for eating a grocery store donut. Things happen." He pretended not to notice her staring at the brand on his chest. "Thank you for taking me in."

"I wish it could have been sooner. I'm sorry we were afraid to before."

Kurt put down the spoon, his curiosity peaked. "What changed your mind?"

"Your Aunt Dani talked some sense into us. Explained the law. The real law. Not the lies the president and his political cronies want the public to believe. The only reason we can't adopt you legally is because you're a runaway and we don't want to take the chance that you'll be found out and have to go back to that place."

"Me neither." He picked up the spoon again, sticking it into the red blob of pseudo food and watched it jiggle back and forth. "What now, more tests?"

"Just waiting on your scan results. If they come back clear, they'll remove your stitches and you can go home."

"If they're not clear?"

"I don't know, Honey. Maybe more surgery. Maybe just some additional blood work and a stronger round of antibiotics. I wouldn't worry about it though. We'll be right here with you."

"How's Blaine?"

"The incision at the tip of his tail is bleeding a little bit, so they're going to put in a few extra stitches. Nothing too alarming or unusual. He's getting his eye examined now and Burt is with him."

"I bet he's being the model patient."

"No, Dear, that title is reserved all for you."

Kurt gave a small laugh at her sarcastic joke. "You know why I'm doing this, right?"

Carole nodded. "You need body autonomy and this is the only control you feel you can have today. As a nurse, I'm sighing at the trouble you're causing. But as a person who knows what you've been through?" She smiled and put her hand on her son's bare arm. "Keep giving them hell."

A masculine voice spoke outside the curtains. "Kurt? It's Doctor Carl. May I come in?"

Kurt whispered as quietly as he could to his mom. "You ready for Round Two?"

"Go for it."

Putting on his cockiest smirk, Kurt pushed away the lunch table and pulled the blanket off his lap. He stretched out his naked body to its fullest and rested his head against the singular pillow. "Come in."

* * * * * * *

Kurt tugged his boots and coat off, dumping them unceremoniously by the front door and then headed straight for his robe and medical supplies that had been set up for him in the living room. "I'm taking a shower and no one can stop me!"

He picked up one of the printouts that lay on the coffee table and gave his Carole Mom a kiss on her cheek. "I will follow proper wound care procedure, leave the door unlocked in case I fall, and call you if I need help because I know Blaine can't chance getting his tail wet because of his new sutures." With his head held high, he limped away from his boyfriend and parents and sauntered into the bathroom.

Carole turned to her husband with a pleased smile, proud of how her son had gotten through the day. "I think he's going to be okay now."

Burt hugged his wife and let out a satisfied sigh. "I think so too."

* * * * * * *

"Blaine, I can't even get it to grow an inch!" Kurt flumped his head against the stack of pillows with a sigh.

"Your dick is more than an inch long, Kurt." 

"My dick is broken! All those stupid exams, scans, and tests at the clinic? They broke it! They broke my fucking penis." 

Blaine kissed his boyfriend's mouth as gently as possible, careful of the injuries on both their faces. "It did take twenty minutes to get your shirts off because of your shoulder and the sling. Perhaps that made your flag not wave as high?"

Kurt returned the gesture and then looked down at his naked body with disappointment. "The amazing things you did to my neck and chest? Trust me, my nipples and libido are flying high. So why isn't my mast?"

"I could stroke you some more. Maybe extra lube would help?"

"If you rub my dick any more, it'll be like last time. I am not going to be told I have abrasions down there again by someone that is not you or me."

"At least the chlamydia is gone."

"As are nearly all of our stitches including the ones on your ass. Which is why we're trying to have celebratory sex." Kurt stared at Blaine's exposed dick with both lust and disappointment. It was a great dick. With a broken leg, Blaine hadn't been wearing much south of the equator, but it hadn't exactly been easy to undress him either. It hadn't seemed to matter though because it only took some light making out and few strokes until he was hard and moaning for more. "How come your mast is stiff as pirate Noah's wooden leg and I'm flapping in the breeze like a broken sail?"

"I could switch to the lines from 'Hybrids on the High Seas.' 'Shiver Me Timbers' is great, but the other one has that impossible orgy you like to make fun of."

Kurt loved his boyfriend. He knew just which rigging to pull. Or would that be sea ditties to sing? "Well, you do have the eye patch just like that version of Noah. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity."

"I do." Blaine unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and shook it out, pretending that it was being blown by a breeze. There was always an invisible breeze in the novels. "You've got a mighty large ship, Captain. I'm sure you could use some extra hands to keep it running fast and hard."

Kurt took up his own lines. In their role play, the Lauren roll always became male and they changed the pronouns and other descriptors accordingly. "My crew runs fast and hard too. Can you handle all this wood?"

Blaine stroked his boyfriend, loving the weight and feel of the timber in his hand. "The more planking the better. I'm an expert at swabbing decks."

"How about oiling masts?"

"Masts are my specialty."

Kurt took Blaine's firm pole in hand. His boyfriend was so fucking sexy like this. "You've got a mighty fine mast yourself."

"Thank you, Captain. It loves riding the high seas. I can see that yours does too."

"It does?" Kurt looked down, hopeful for a moment. Reality told him different. There was still no wind in his mainsail. "This isn't fair! I'm just as horny as you are, Blaine! I want you to be able to ride my ship and stroke my plank till the seas are frothy with our sexual pleasures."

Kurt's lament was interrupted by a sound near the front door and a female voice calling out, "Kurt, Blaine, I'm home! How are you boys doing?"

"Kurt can't get an erection. He thinks he's broken."

"Oh my god, Blaine! You can't ask her that!" Using his good arm, Kurt hid his naked body under every sheet, comforter, and quilt within reach. Screw his boyfriend. He could find his own blanket or leave his mast exposed for all he cared. And how was he still hard?! 

"Carole is a nurse, Kurt."

Why weren't his glares killing his boyfriend and fusing his mouth shut? "She's also my new mom. I am not going to ask her that!"

"I can be both to you, Kurt. Are you boys decent?"

"Does a blanket covering us count as decent?"

"Shut up, Blaine!"

Carole entered the living room where the boys were enjoying their recuperation time on the fold out couch. She tried to put on her best, "concerned and compassionate nurse" face and not the "laugh like a mom with horny teenagers caught in the act" one. "Kurt, you're still on muscle relaxants. That's why things don't appear to be working. Nothing is broken."

"But Blaine got hard." Why did he say that? Did the evil drugs make him say that? 

"He's not on them anymore. You two can do other things that don't involve genital stimulation."

Kurt had thought he'd already reached peak mortification. He was wrong. "I do not need the sex talk."

"Then how about the 'It'll only be a few more days if you don't strain your shoulder again' talk? Burt's going to be home soon anyway, so why don't you boys get dressed. Unless you'd also like to have this discussion with your other new parent, Kurt?"

"God, no! Not again!"

"Good. I'm going to go change and then make dinner. How do hot dogs sound or is that not food pirates would eat on the high seas?"

All the color drained from Kurt's face. Muscle relaxants or not, he didn't think he'd be able to get an erection ever again.

* * * * * * *

"I really like Vico...vi...vicod...my shoulder doesn't hurt anymore."

"I like hot dogs."

Kurt looked over at his boyfriend's plate. "It looks like a penis."

"Do you really think so? Yours has more width." Blaine looked down, trying to see Kurt's amazing dick, but sadly, it was covered by pants. 

"So does yours." Kurt picked up the too-thin meat and slid it back and forth between the folds of the bun it was nestled in. "Do you think this is what it looks like when you ride me?"

"I told you, you are much bigger than that hot dog. And you do not feel like that bun. You're so much better." Blaine tried to kiss his boyfriend's mouth but missed. 

"I miss sex. We need to have sex again, Blaine."

"We'll try when Burt and Carole are asleep. It would be weird if they could hear us."

Burt pushed his half eaten meal away from him and leaned over to his wife. "Can we make it a new rule of no hot dogs or sausages or other similar shaped foods until the boys are off those meds?"

"How about I get them settled into bed with their ice packs and you order us pizza for dinner?"

"Good idea. I knew there was a reason I married you."


	9. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite unforeseen obstacles, Kurt and Blaine continue to recover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for flashbacks about past rape/non-con and panic attacks. This chapter was revised on February 3, 2018.

\------------

"Kurt, given our injuries, we're pretty limited in what we can do."

"It's 5 a.m., Burt and Carole are asleep, the muscle relaxants are out of my system, and after two weeks, I've finally got an erection again. One way or another, we're having sex."

"Sex would be nice. I've missed it too. And given that you don't have any pants on..."

Kurt grinned at his partial nudity and his boyfriend's reaction to it. "I swear, I woke up like this."

Blaine kissed his boyfriend soundly and trailed his fingers up and down his dick, enjoying the reaction his touch caused. "Sure you did. Help me get my pants off?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Together with one injury-free hand a piece, they worked Blaine's pants and underwear off.

Relieved to have his own erection free from confinement, Blaine inquired about the rest of their clothes. "Shirts?"

"Do you think we have time? Mine take forever to get off and I just really want to...get off."

"We'll take off mine and ruck up yours." With the hand not in a cast, Blaine tugged off his borrowed-from-Kurt OSU hoodie, pleased that he wasn't wearing another shirt underneath. "Condoms and lube?"

"Under the bed on my side. I'll get them. You're still okay with bottoming?"

"I am always okay with that as long as it's with you."

Kurt paused his attempts to reach under the fold out couch without putting weight on the shoulder and arm bound in a sling. "I thought maybe after what we had to go through at the clinic..."

Blaine leaned in close to Kurt and rubbed a soothing hand along his back. "It's just you and me here, no one else, nothing else."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

One last scrabble and Kurt was finally able to catch his fingers on the plastic bag. The clinic was a week of hell, but at least he'd gotten to go home with parting gifts. "Where and how do you want to do this?"

"Edge of the bed? Maybe the reclining chair?"

"Burt would kill us if we had sex in his favorite chair." Kurt shook the imagined reprimand off. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was getting another sex talk from his adopted dad.

"Kitchen? Kitchen chair?"

"Kitchen chair, in here. I'll drag it in. You start prepping yourself."

Blaine gave his boyfriend the most seductive grin he could. "I already did. You weren't the only one who woke up horny and hard."

"Best boyfriend ever! I'll be right back." Kurt winced every time he and the chair bumped into furniture and doorways, glad this parents were deep sleepers, yet also wishing he could turn on the lights.

After a lot of frantic fumbling and whispered discussion, they finally decided to put the chair at the foot of the bed, back facing it. 

"Are you going to need your crutches?"

"Wait, let's turn the chair sideways, that way I can scoot over from the bed and onto your lap and my broken leg is always supported."

Kurt stood up from his seated position and repositioned the chair. His shoulder and hamstring were going to hate him later, but right now, all he cared about was his dick and getting his boyfriend on it. "I'm ready."

"Oh, yes you are." Blaine loved Kurt's dick. He loved Kurt's mind and body and everything, but right now, his dick was his best feature. It took a bit of laughter-filled fumbling, but together they were able to unwrap a condom, roll it on, and coat it with lube. He shared a moan as he sank onto it and trailed kisses down his boyfriend's neck as a thank you. "I love this."

"Me too."

"Kurt? Who's going to move?"

Kurt didn't stop his hands as they roved along Blaine's chest, playing with his nipples and eliciting breathless gasps of pleasure. He loved every part of the man and not just the one surrounding his dick in tight heat. "I have one less-injured leg. You have one. We'll push up and down together."

"You have the best plans."

All talking except for "I love you's," "faster," "slower," "oh, right there," and the thanking of gods ceased after that. Muscles were strained and injuries only partially healed were made worse, but they didn't care. Their releases came close together and on gasped, drawn-out moans. 

"Please tell me there's another condom within reach, Blaine, because I so want a repeat of this."

"No, Round Two! Your mom is late for work, Kurt, and I've got to get to the shop."

All the blood drained from Kurt's face and dick. "It's only 5 o'clock! You're supposed to be asleep."

"It's after six and neither of us could leave the house until you two were done doing what you were doing." Burt scrubbed at his face and head, dreading what he had to ask next. "Do you boys need help getting back on the bed and off the chair I'll be burning later?" He never thought he'd have to be grateful his recliner hadn't been used for such a thing.

"Just a minute, Sir. I'll see if I can get off of Kurt by myself."

"Shut up, Blaine!"

"It's not like he didn't know, Kurt, and what if we did get stuck like this? It's funny when it happens in movies, but real life would suck."

"Any time, boys."

After a long series of grunting and gasps, and no word on the boys' progress, Carole made her way down the steps. "Are you sure you don't need help, Blaine? Kurt?"

"Don't look!"

"My eyes are covered, Kurt, but I really do need to get to work."

Kurt scrambled to sit back on the bed, now that he'd helped Blaine get on it. To his horror, he discovered they were laying on the top of all of the blankets and there wasn't enough ease to cover themselves. 

"Your home health aid, Sam, is coming by at nine. I need to get you situated before we leave."

Kurt and Blaine grabbed at discarded bits of clothing and put them over as much of their laps as possible. It was Kurt who spoke, not trusting his boyfriend to not say something that would make their situation even more embarrassing. "We're covered...enough. You might as well give me the muscle relaxant because my shoulder is killing me and I'm too mortified to ever have sex again."

Burt came down the steps and headed for the kitchen to make coffee, not looking, but unable to resist getting in some teasing of his son. "Those are the words every parent longs to hear. Can you try to hold off until you're mobile enough to move into your upstairs bedroom or do it on the inflatable mattress on the back porch? Carole and I bought that kitchen set when she first moved in. We thought we'd be the only ones to christen it in such a way."

"Oh, my god!"

Carole turned her face to hide her laughter at the half lie. It was the table, not the chairs they'd had fun on. After a few minutes, she was able to contain her mirth and give hasty instructions to her boys. "Your medicines are dosed out in the little cups on your end tables. Breakfast is in the fridge. Sam doesn't have a key, Kurt, so you'll have to let him in. He's here to help, so try not to give him any trouble."

"I like Sam!"

"But you also like your independence. You and Blaine both need help whether you want to admit it or not. Now we have to run or I'll be in trouble and my pay will get docked. Instructions are on the coffee table. Call either of us if you have questions."

"Can we trust you, boys?"

"Yes, Mister Hummel."

Kurt sighed at his dad, more embarrassed than angry. "Yes."

"Good. Just, try to be dressed when Sam gets here, okay?" Burt let out another long sigh before pulling on his coat, grabbing his travel cup of coffee, and heading out with his wife. He loved his kids, he did. He just never thought he'd actually have to hear what went down in the tent of that movie. 

* * * * * * *

Kurt had thought he'd never be able to get hard again, but once his parents had left, and he and Blaine had started cleaning themselves off in the bathroom, his hormones kicked back in. Round Two was more hands and lots of groping rather than a repeat of earlier, but it was still incredibly enjoyable for both of them despite the bumping into the bathroom counter and toilet paper holder with gasps of "Ow, your cast is digging into my shin" and "Kurt, don't take your arm out of the sling. Your one hand is enough, I swear," interspersed with moans of pleasure and more wordy declarations of how skilled the other was.

They'd barely managed to get cleaned up and dressed when there was a knock on the door. Kurt limped over and let the person in.

"Hi, Kurt. I'm Sam! I'm here to help you today." The blonde-haired, early twenties man waved as he greeted the young man. His big smile always put people at ease.

"I know who you are, Sam."

"Not all of my clients remember, so I always introduce myself."

"That's nice of you." Kurt stepped aside, unsure about having the guy here. Mercedes had always been happy and well cared for, so at least he could trust him. Or, he probably could...to a point. "Um, come in, I guess. I don't know what Burt and Carole told you." 

"Don't worry, Dude. I've got it all covered." He walked into the living room and waved to his other client. "Hi, I'm Sam. You must be Blaine. Awesome cast! Did you do the drawings yourself?"

"Kurt helped."

"Great job! Is that Nightbird?"

Blaine gestured to the drawing on his cast. "You know Nightbird?"

"Yeah. There was this dude that had a superheroes club blog and made up his own character. It was great! I haven't seen him online in ages though."

"That was me." The face of the former blogger known as NightbirdWarbler, fell. He missed his online life, his laptop and phone, and having unlimited access to the internet.

"No way! That is so cool! I mean, not what happened to you, but your Tumblr was awesome."

The would-be-a-superhero-in-a-heartbeat-if-reality-allowed-it beamed at the praise. "Thanks."

Sam took off his coat and put his knapsack down by the living room's reclining chair. "So, I should probably get started. Do either of you need anything right now or can I clean up the mess on the floor?"

"What mess?"

"Don't be embarrassed. Lots of people have problems with bedpans and not being able to get to the bathroom on time. You two sit back. I got this. Cleaning supplies are under the kitchen sink, right?"

It was then that Kurt noticed the stain on the carpet at the foot of the fold out couch. He leaned over and pressed his mouth to his boyfriend's ear. "If you say one word, I will never have sex with you again."

"But, the kind of sex we have is perfectly normal and I'm sure Sam would understand. He seems like a great guy."

"Not one word, Blaine."

"You'd rather Sam think one of us had a...bathroom accident?" Kurt wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable about needing help to use the toilet. The clinic hadn't been a vacation for him either. But the sex they shared was different. It was a connection between two people who loved and cared about each other. He refused to be embarrassed about that. 

"Yes. You should be grateful I managed to put the chair back and get it cleaned off." Kurt watched in discomfort as the remnants of his and his boyfriend's morning activities were cleaned up. The time at the clinic and home were mortifying enough, but at least it had been mostly his mom and dad helping him at his worst. This was someone who was practically a stranger, cleaning up something he should have taken care of himself. 

"Okay. All done. Let's get you guys started on your routine. Breathing exercises and then video games."

Kurt could be skeptical all he wanted, but Blaine was really liking this guy. "Video games are on the list?"

"No, but you've got a sweet system set up and during ice pack time, I figure why not have some fun? Besides, it'll help your eye get back into shape quicker and shake out any fuzzies from your concussion."

"Cool!"

Kurt doubted what Sam said was true, but it did make the first part of their day more enjoyable, even if he did suck working a toggle and buttons with his left hand. Now that he was off his "trippy meds," as his dad called them, things had become boring.

He was eating a lunch of yogurt and mashed fruit staring longingly at Blaine's lunch meat and cheese sandwich, when Sam starting talking about his life.

Blaine wiped his mouth with a napkin before asking his question. "How long have you been a home health aide?" 

"A few years. I'm also a physical therapist in training. Before that I was an underwear model in New York City, but that stopped being fun. I still keep up the bod though for my side gig."

"Side gig?" Blaine's curiosity was peaked. 

"I'm a stripper at Scandals and a couple of the other bars. The guys and gals love their White Chocolate. Maybe you've seen me?" 

Sam showed off some of his signature moves. The ab roll? Oh, that Kurt would have remembered and was glad he wasn't the only one staring. "No, never been. You, Blaine?"

"To Scandals? No, but maybe we should."

"That'd be cool, Dude. When you're feeling better, I'll tell the bouncer to let you in. It's in Lima Heights by those old warehouses."

Kurt pushed away his lunch and headed to the back porch, locking the door behind him. He knew that area far too well, knew what it was near, and knew that he was never, ever, ever going back there again. Being in Lima proper was terrifying enough.

There wasn't enough air on the porch. Why wasn't there enough air? He opened the back door and gasped as a bitterly cold gust of wind hit him. He filled his lungs with shallow breaths as he sat on the stoop, his mind racing, wiping at tears, shaking from the panic those few words had caused. 

He looked right, to the back yard, and saw the stray cat entering his old shelter. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. He hadn't used it in over a month. Even when he'd run away and come back, it was his room on the back porch he'd entered and not the shelter filled with old straw and blankets. He wasn't the same terrified kid he was back then. He had a home and the man who'd built that shelter for him now called him "son." The shelter that was his. 

Anger boiled up inside and propelled him forward, yelling at the damn cat to get out. Deep, evolutionary instinct took over and it was only the pelting of hard, wet snow that cleared his mind enough to look down and see what he'd done. His cold, limp dick was outside of his pants and being held in his hand. Telltale markings of piss were everywhere - by the shelter, the garage, the ground in front of the back door. 

To make matters worse, he heard voices inside the house. Sam was trying to get the kitchen door open. Blaine in return urging him to, "Let Kurt be. He gets this way sometimes and the best thing to do is just wait it out."

Fucking hell. When he got this way? Really? As if Blaine didn't have his own triggers. He couldn't be in the kitchen when anyone was cooking and either left the room or covered his ears and closed his eyes when the TV showed a report about a house or building on fire. The sound of a fire truck would put him on a panicked alert. Burt couldn't watch anything dealing with cancer or car accidents. And Carole? The same kind of...violation...stories and drama show plotlines bothered her as much as himself. So someone mentioning Lima Heights? Yeah, he had every damn right to leave the conversation and get away for awhile.

The instinctual marking though? That was a fucking embarrassment. No wonder some humans considered hybrids only equal to animals. His socked feet becoming frozen and soaked quickly, he wiped away the signs as best he could, brushing old and fresh snow over the pale yellow lines. It wasn't perfect, but now it looked like someone had just gone and played in the yard rather than define it as theirs.

When he was done, he reentered the house and changed into the dry clothes Burt had left for him in a tote, crawled under the blankets on the inflatable mattress, and fell asleep. 

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Bud, you okay? Blaine said you've been out here awhile."

Kurt turned his head towards the comforting voice. The sounds of the door opening and footsteps had woken him up from a nightmare he didn't want to remember. He was grateful for the interruption. "What time is it?"

"Five o'clock."

"In the morning?" 

"At night."

"But it's so dark." The room was nearly pitch black. The only light coming from the phone in his dad's hand, jostling around as he pulled over a tote to sit on near the bed.

"Power's out all over town." 

"Is that why it's so cold?"

"Yeah, Son." Burt pulled a wandering edge of a quilt back over his kid's shoulders. "Do you feel up to coming back inside or do want me to get you some more blankets and those instant hot packs you like? Gotta be honest with you, inside isn't much warmer, but at least the kitchen stove is gas, so I'm heating up the leftover meatloaf for dinner. It's helping a little."

Kurt looked up at his dad, afraid the man was angry or annoyed, but found only patient acceptance. "You're not mad?"

"Nothin' to be mad about. You had a bad day, that's all. I'm proud of you for not runnin' away."

"This is my home now."

"Always, Kiddo." Burt wanted to say he loved the kid, but wasn't sure how he'd react, so he settled instead for a gentle pat on his upper back. One step at a time. Kurt thought of this place as his home and he and Carole as his family. That was plenty for now. 

"I think I'll go inside."

"You need help standing up?"

Kurt winced at the pain in his leg, shoulder, and chest. Even his broken fingers were hurting more than usual. "Yes, please. Could I have some pain killers?"

"Already waiting for you, Son."

"Thanks, Dad." Kurt leaned on his father as he was lead through the door into the kitchen, grateful to be properly home once again. 

* * * * * * *

Kurt listened quietly at the kitchen table as Blaine recounted his day to them. How he and Sam had fun playing Batman vs Legoman, or something like that, and had promised to help him create a new Tumblr if he couldn't remember the password to his old one. Blaine reassured Burt that his physical needs were taken care of. He'd been helped to the bathroom, done his breathing exercises, had his bandages checked, and been fed, ice packed, and medicated. Sam did have to leave early on account of the storm and needing to check on his other clients, but not without making sure everything was set here. Blaine felt the video game playing had helped his eyes, lungs, and mood.

On that last part, Blaine looked over at his boyfriend with a resigned sadness. He wished he could have helped him or convinced him to join in on the rest of the day's fun, but he also knew better. Kurt would come to him when he was ready. Pushing for more sooner would drive him away. 

"What did you do today, Kiddo?"

Kurt was startled by his dad's question. He thought he'd be left alone, but given what had happened last time, it wasn't an unreasonable question. "I just...um...walked around the back yard a bit and then slept the rest of the day."

"The cold air couldn't be good for your lungs or your ribs."

"It wasn't. Lesson learned the hard way, I guess. Where's Carole...Carole Mom?"

"She's volunteering at the clinic. Weather like this, they get more folks comin' in. She wanted to put a few hours in after all they did for you boys. Did you need her for anything? Maybe I can help."

Kurt tried to reply to everything in a way that made sense, but it was hard. He was cold, in pain, and the day had been emotionally exhausting. "I was just worried about her, with the power being out and the storm. It's nice that she's helping. I'm fine. Everything hurts, but I think I'll survive. I'm glad she's okay. Are you going to the shop?"

"No point without power, Bud. Generator's been on the fritz. I'll be here for you boys."

Kurt gave a nod and small smile at that.

"Carole texted and asked if you could do her the favor of eating up the cheesecake. You know, so it doesn't go bad." 

To that, Kurt laughed, wincing at the movement. He knew a ploy when he heard one, but wasn't going to object. "I think I can manage that. How about you, Blaine?"

"I would love to help."

"Great. I'll get some extra paper plates and forks out. There's whipped cream and fruit that needs using up too."

A larger grin spread across his face. Kurt was positive that the cure for anything was cheesecake and the toppings would help the healing go faster. His adoptive parents were amazing. "You read my mind." 

* * * * * * *

Kurt didn't think there could ever be such a thing as eating too much cheesecake. He was wrong; so very, very wrong. His intestines were paying for it. The toilet was paying for it. The air in the bathroom was definitely paying for it. And he was pretty sure that his pants and last clean pair of underwear had paid for it too. 

Thankfully, Carole was wonderful about keeping the bathroom stocked with things like toilet paper. What the bathroom didn't contain were towels, or rather anything larger than a hand towel. No, those were kept upstairs in the linen closet with only a few placed on the plastic shelving unit that had been set up for himself and Blaine. The same unit that held his pants, his uncomfortable-but-they-would-have-to-do long johns, and his robe. The towels, the clothes, and the shelving that were in full view of where his dad and boyfriend were chatting. Or at least as full of a view as one could get in house lit only with a few candles and the tap light placed in the bathroom.

After washing his hand...his gross, gross hand that the toilet paper hadn't protected well enough, and okay, fine, maybe he did need a home health aid or at least help at home sometimes, he opened the bathroom door, tugged down his T-shirt as far as it would go, and covered his bits with the hand towel. 

Fuck, and now he couldn't see where he was going and didn't have use of his other hand to bring the tap light with him. "I need help."

"You okay, Son?"

"Don't look!" Kurt took a deep, ow, that hurt, breath. "I'm not wearing any pants." He could hear his boyfriend laughing. "It's not funny, Blaine."

"It is a little."

Burt took a few steps towards the bathroom, carrying his flashlight with him, and saw his kid standing there with a look of horror on his face.

"I said don't look!"

"Had to see where I was going if I was going to help you, Kurt. What happened?"

"Did Carole Mom give me laxatives again?"

"No. Why?"

The floor was really interesting where his dad was aiming the flashlight. All the shadows on the hardwood and nearby carpet made for some unique patterns. "I had...an accident. I need to take a shower and change my clothes."

"Water's going to be freezing with the power off."

"I've had worse." He shrugged the matter off. Why the hell couldn't he stop shrugging? God, he was stupid sometimes.

"I've seen him roll around in the snow naked, Mister Hummel. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"That was a between you and me thing, Blaine."

"Sorry." 

"I need help getting my clothes and towels and things set up."

"You sure a sponge bath wouldn't be easier? I know you don't like 'em, Kid, but it would be quicker and I could heat you up some hot water on the stove." Burt leaned closer to his son. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I can't take a sponge bath because I put my underwear to soak in the sink."

"Okay then, we'll do it your way. Just promise me you'll stop if the cold water is too much or you need more help. Maybe I could boil up some water for the tub or something."

"I tried to take a bath once. My hamstring decided it wasn't a good idea."

"Okay. You did think this through. How do you want to play it next?"

"Um...I'll follow you into the living room and tell you what I need and then you carry it the bathroom for me? And I'll need help getting my shirts off."

The walk of shame to the living room was mortifying, but at least only Blaine stared at his covered bits and then exposed backside as he retreated back to the bathroom. 

"You can do this. You can do this. Burt is safe." ran on a loop through Kurt's head. His lingering fears were assuaged when his dad had him sit on the closed lid of the toilet and covered his lap with a bath towel before helping him remove his sling, shirts, socks, and bandages. Then he wrapped the hand with the broken fingers in plastic to protect it from the water, and placed another towel, a robe, washcloth, and toiletries within easy reach. Burt had even opened up the bottles of shampoo and conditioner for him. Little things that would make his time under the cold water easier and quicker. 

"I know you're not Schue or any of *them*, but do you mind leaving while I shower?"

"With how much you've been hurting today, you sure you don't need any help?"

Kurt took a shallow but reassuring breath, "If I do, I'll ask."

"Okay. I'll be within earshot."

"Thank you."

The warm water didn't last long before it turned cold. Kurt washed as fast as he could, but the longer he stayed under, the stronger the flashbacks became. Of being watched. Of being catcalled and urged to make his movements under the stream of water in the open shower room "sexier." The chill of the water peaking his nipples, tightening his muscles, and making him shiver, which only served to turn his audience on more. The sounds and smells of the guards as they slipped their hands down their pants and got off watching him. The beat downs from the other inmates at the hellhole called the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory who suffered the same fate, but felt it wasn't justified because he was the one who liked cock and not them. Having to bathe in streams, in snow, in the rain, and with garden hoses dragged behind garages or under porches of strangers who weren't home, knowing that equally perverse men and women could be watching him and getting off on his desperate attempts to stay clean while homeless. The humiliation of needing to be bathed and his bottom wiped by strangers at the clinic when he was too injured and medicated to do it himself. 

It was too much. It was all too much. Kurt collapsed onto the floor of the bathtub, great sobs wracking his body as the frigid water continued to pour down on him. Over the sound of the shower, he could hear an increased pounding on a door and someone calling his name, but he ignored it. Sometimes if you ignored them, they stopped bothering you...at least for a little while. 

But then the water stopped and there was the sound of a man's frantic voice and touching. He begged for it to stop. Pleaded with him to be left alone. Something soft was draped over his body and he was half carried out of the room and laid down upon a mattress. He struggled, fearing the worst was about to happen. Blanket after blanket was tucked around him with no movements made to strip him bare and be forced to touch another's naked body and be touched in return. 

The voices around him were soothing now and Kurt struggled to make his way up through the fog. It was hard to see in the dimness of the room, but eventually he could make out two faces. Blaine was beside him, close by but just far enough away that they weren't touching, snuggled in his own blankets. Burt was standing to the side, behind his boyfriend, his face crestfallen with grief and worry. "Where am I?"

"You're in the living room on the fold out couch." Blaine reached out a hand to wipe at the tears on his boyfriend's face, but thought better of it, leaving it between them.

"What happened?"

"I wish I knew. You fell in the shower and got scared when I tried to help you."

"I felt someone touching me."

"I had to get you out, Kid. I swear to you, I would never touch you inappropriately."

Kurt was confused. His dad had proven that to him time and again. "I know. I trust you."

"I don't think you knew it was me. I think maybe you were havin' a panic attack."

"But I..." Images of this morning and the thoughts he couldn't control in the shower started flooding in. He forced them back, tried to slow his breathing and steady his racing heart. He was safe. He was surrounded by people who loved him. He wanted to say he didn't understand why, but he did. The flashbacks and panic attacks were happening more often now. "I think...I think maybe I should see that therapist. If that's okay."

"Anything for you, Son."


	10. Reclaiming My Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic memories resurface for Kurt and he decides to do something about it, much to the dismay of Finn. (Please see Notes for new trigger warnings.)

\------------

Burt walked into the living room and sat down on his reclining chair. "Hey, Kurt, Blaine, can I talk to you boys for a minute?"

"Is everything okay?" Kurt closed the copy of Vogue they'd been pouring over. The latest suits for men and women had led to a discussion of bow ties as fashion for hybrids - acceptable or a symbol of racism and slavery. He himself felt that in a different political time, they'd be acceptable, but right now would only serve to fuel bigoted beliefs that hybrids were no better than pets and should be forced to wear a collar as such. His boyfriend, on the other hand, was in favor as he considered them a bright pop of versatile color and missed the extensive collection he'd accrued since childhood.

"I just wanted to go over your schedules for this week."

"We have schedules now?"

"Not so much, Blaine, but things are going to be pretty hectic. Sam will be comin' over for a few hours a couple of days. On Monday, you both have an appointment with Miss Pillsbury, that therapist Doctor Jones recommended." Burt leaned forward in his favorite chair, knowing that his son wasn't going to be pleased with what he had to say. "OSU's Spring Break starts tomorrow and Finn plans to spend most of it here catching up with his friends. I'll be picking him up tonight after his last midterm."

Kurt picked at the blankets on the couch bed. "Do you want us to move back to the porch?"

"Honestly, I don't know what would make you feel more comfortable. Your mom said climbing the stairs to your bedroom isn't a good idea for a couple more weeks. The living room doesn't offer you any real privacy. And the back porch is cold and getting up and down off that mattress can't be easy on your injuries either."

"Can Blaine and I think about it?"

"Of course. And if you come up with a better solution, I'd be happy to hear it."

Kurt gave his dad a small smile. "Thank you."

An hour later, Kurt found Burt in the kitchen, reaching behind some rarely used pots in an upper cabinet and pulling out a bag of chips. 

Startled, but chuckling self-consciously, the man winked. "Don't tell your mom."

Kurt laughed and pointed to his scared head, the shaved patches of fur only now starting to grow back around where the stitches had been. "I didn't see a thing. Must be the lingering effects of the concussion."

"Must be." Burt opened the bag as he sat down at the table, inviting his son to join him. "Want some?"

"No, thanks."

"Mouth still bothering you?"

"No, I just don't feel like them."

"Well if you change your mind..." He pointed to the bag and ate a few before noticing his son picking at the edges of his sling, looking nervous. "Somethin' on your mind, Kiddo?"

Kurt stared at table, unsure of what his dad's reaction would be, but pushed himself to ask the question anyway. "What you said earlier, about what would make me comfortable about Finn coming home? Intellectually, I know he didn't mean to take my cereal and that you said you'd get me anything, within reason, that I need but..." He took a deep breath, hating that it still hurt to do so. "The rest of my brain doesn't quite believe it. Is it okay if I put some of my food on the back porch and in one of the totes?"

"Of course it is, Bud. That's why I set it up for you." The relief on his kid's face was evident that he'd been expecting a different answer. "Were you afraid I'd be mad?"

Kurt nodded. "Finn's your son."

Burt lifted his chin up with fatherly pride and placed a hand on his kid's arm. "So are you, Kurt. Nothin's going to change that." 

Kurt soaked in the praise, still regretful of the trouble he'd caused before. "I'm going to try to be better when he's here."

"Kurt, you just focus on healing and giving that Miss Pillsbury a shot. Have you thought about where you want to sleep?"

"I thought about the upstairs room, but I don't want to leave Blaine alone. He has nightmares."

"The kid's so cheerful and polite, I forget he's been through hell same as you."

"He hides it better." He took a chip out of the bag and winced as he chewed it. Maybe his mouth and face weren't as healed as he'd thought. "Could you help me move the food?" 

"Sure, Bud."

"You're a really good dad. I'm sorry you weren't able to have kids of your own."

"I got kids of my own. Biology doesn't matter when it comes to that. My first wife, Elizabeth, she would have loved having you as her kid too." Burt paused at Kurt's sudden smile. "What is it?"

"My mom's name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Elizabeth. She said her parents thought it was funny and that she'd never forget her name. I was little when she died and she was always 'Mommy' to me, but I remember that. Or I think I remember that. Maybe I just made it up. Having a girl's last name didn't exactly make my life easier at the Reformatory."

Burt took off his cap and scrubbed his face and the top of his head before putting it back on. He knew damn well that wasn't the only thing that made the kid's life hell there. He needed to lighten his son's mood and keep the memories of his mom pleasant ones. "Maybe both of our Elizabeths are having tea and talkin' about how glad they are you found your way here."

"Maybe." Kurt smiled. He didn't believe in any god, not really, but sometimes he wanted to believe in things like this. A thought came to mind and he affected a sly grin. "You know, a good parent would make me coffee."

Burt chuckled at the attempt to play on his paternal emotions. Elizabeth really would have adored the kid. They shared the same sense of humor. "A good parent would tell you it's too late for coffee and help you move your food so you and Blaine can get settled and ready for your evening medical routine."

"Pain killers work faster with caffeine."

"Nice try. Get me in the morning." Burt put the chips away and went to the fridge. "Which first?"

"The leftover scrambled eggs and containers of yogurt."

"You didn't finish your breakfast?"

Kurt shrugged. "I wasn't that hungry so I saved the rest for later."

Burt kept his worries to himself. The kid still ate and he and Carole were doing all they could to help him with his food insecurities. It would have to be enough for now. "I'll pour some milk into water bottles for you. Finn has a tendency to use it up and not leave any for the rest of us. I'll buy some more tomorrow."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Any time, Kid. Do you want me to put Blaine's food in there too?"

"We should, but I'll ask."

"While you do that, want me to move your boxes of cereal and pasta?" At his son's pleased smile, he offered another thing to help him feel better. "And how about before I go grocery shopping, we can all sit down and make a list? That way I don't get the wrong protein bars or lunch meat and you and Blaine are stocked for the next couple of weeks."

"That'd be great. Thank you. I'll go tell Blaine."

Burt gathered up as many boxes in his arms as he could manage. It was going to take a second trip at least. That his kid had come to him for help was another step in the right direction. There were so many more to go, but he was making progress, even it that meant keeping no fewer than six boxes of cereal and 20 protein bars on hand at all times.

* * * * * * *

Dinner that night was a relatively quiet affair. Kurt ate his burger and fries in the living room beside Blaine on the couch. He tried to ignore the whispers in the kitchen, his parents reminding Finn to be nice, not hog the TV, and to not to have anyone over without permission. Kurt was sure his dad would have explained this already, but Finn wasn't exactly all that sharp. He knew he wasn't a bad guy. It was just going to be an adjustment for all of them now that he was a more permanent part of the family instead of just some homeless kid being helped out. He'd never had a brother before. Blaine had, but he rarely talked about him and their relationship had been strained. 

It was the morning when things became awkward. Kurt had woken early and was fumbling trying to make coffee when his Carole Mom came in, giving him a hug and offering to make pancakes for breakfast. He liked that this had become a part of his routine. If it wasn't his mom, it was his dad offering a greeting, coffee, and breakfast. The only time it hadn't happened was that mortifying morning where he and Blaine had been heard having sex. And that was a time best forgotten by all.

Another part of his and his parents' routine was helping him get his shirts off and the hand with the broken fingers sealed in a plastic bag prior to showering. Carole had just removed the last of his layers when Finn walked in.

"Hi, Mom. Do we have any orange juice?"

"In the fridge where it always is."

"Yeah, but sometimes we're out." Finn dug around before finding his preferred morning pick me up. He thought about drinking straight from the carton, but a knowing look from his mom stopped him so he got a glass and sat down at the table. 

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying not to say anything. He hated being stared at and eventually it got to be too much. "Something interest you, Finn?"

His new brother had a glare that was scarier than his mom's. "Sorry, Dude. I just noticed your tattoo branding thing. It's all cool."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head. "It's not 'cool', Finn. When you're six years old and some scary-looking men rip off your shirt, hold you down on a table, and press a hot iron to your chest? It's not cool. When you're screaming in pain and traumatized over what just happened and they make it worse by pulling down your pants to see what junk you have and snip off part of your ear? Left for guys, right for girls, and never mind what the trans kids say their gender is. None of that is cool either." Kurt stopped himself from going further. Finn didn't need to know about how one of his bunkmates had been misgendered because of that shit. The guards and the Commandant had taken a special interest in her when she'd been brought in, arrested for stealing clothes and food after her parents kicked her out for coming out. She'd killed herself four months later, never seeing her seventeenth birthday.

"Whoa, Dude! That's not what I meant! Mom, tell him that's not what I meant!" Finn looked to his mom, confused and horrified at what Kurt had just told him. "I just know a guy, Puck, who has the same mark as you do. He cleans the pools and locker rooms at OSU. He's really cool and we hang out sometimes."

Curiosity overcame Kurt as he glowered at the table, refusing to meet anyone's eye. "I knew a Puck at the Reformatory. Did your friend mention having a kid?"

"Yeah, a little girl, Beth. How'd you know?"

"I was friends with her mom, Quinn." _"We had each other's backs at the Reformatory and she helped me escape,"_ went unsaid. A lot went unsaid. If Finn had been shocked at the branding story, he would have shit his pants at the ones he would never tell. 

Perking back up because having friends in common was a great way to try and bond with his brother, just like his parents wanted, Finn replied in earnest. "Yeah, I know her too. She's really nice. They live in a tiny apartment near campus."

"So, she's okay?" At Finn's nod, Kurt relaxed, relieved that Quinn had been able to give birth and that neither were homeless. Nor had she been captured and sent back to the Reformatory. "That's good to hear." 

Carole was glad that Kurt didn't appear as tense any more, but knew firsthand that any mention of the Reformatory could send him into a panic attack or fight or flight mode. She distracted him with something she hoped was positive. "Kurt, Sweetie, why don't you go take your shower. Pancakes will be ready when you're done. Does Blaine need help with his morning things?"

"I already took care of him. He hates not being as mobile and his casts are driving him crazy with the itching and smell."

"I'll look in on him, okay?"

"Thanks, Carole Mom." He accepted her kiss on the top of his head with a sad smile and gathered his things. He knew what she was doing - diffusing the situation, getting him to think about his boyfriend instead of his past, and giving him the time to work things through. Showers could be triggering, even here where they were private, but it was exactly what he needed right now.

* * * * * * *

Standing under the hot stream of water, Kurt couldn't help but replay what had just happened in the kitchen. He didn't feel he should have to apologize nor did he believe that his parents would require it. They already knew he'd been marked in juvie, and after Doctor Jones' examinations at the clinic, knew a lot more about what happened there than he'd ever planned on telling them. Even without him giving the graphic details to Finn and his mom, the how of the branding could have been surmised easily enough. Humans had a notorious propensity for repeating their cruel acts on enslaved populations.

What had happened to him, happened to every single juvenile incarcerated at the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory. Whether you were there for a few months or a few years or had conveniently been taken off the public child welfare department's hands and been put to work until you aged out at eighteen, it was all the same. You were marked, scarred for life, and it began with being handcuffed and led into a cold, dark grey room with barred windows set high near the ceiling and a dented stainless steel table bolted to the floor in the center. Idly, you would wonder why there was an open brick oven embedded in one wall - until you found out, and then you wished you never knew. The inmates called it the Screaming Day. 

For the guards, the humans that had no humanity, they merely complained about the "burn, strip, and snip" part of their job. It was all just an annoying task that interfered with their preferred daily routine. Most of the younger kids looked androgynous, so pulling down their pants to see what genitals they had was a quick means of determining gender. With the kids who had started to develop, it was a way for them to make sure and also have a bit of fun by copping a feel in the process. It happened to the little kids too, though with far less frequency. Commandant Ryerson preferred his victims less used by the time they hit adolescence and would fire anyone who took advantage of his lax policies. Mostly, though, holding the hybrid delinquents down and stripping them naked rather than demanding that they remove their clothes was just easier and quicker. The ones that refused would have to be restrained and forcibly undressed anyway. "Get it done. Get it over with. None of this fussing about with the newbies. Processing them in takes long enough as it is." For the Commandant, the entire ordeal was a deliberate impartial, systematic, traumatizing, and cruel act that showed each new inmate exactly what life was going to be like at the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory.

Kurt had witnessed a number of Screaming Days by accident, arriving to clean up the room before the process was done and staring helpless through the door's window. Those who fought the hardest and broke free of the guards holding them down often ended up with double brands and burns to their face and arms. 

He had been lucky, he supposed, being too young and naive to understand what was about to happen. The shock and terror of having his shirt cut off as he was held down on the table by scary men and having a fire stick pressed to his chest had paralyzed him with fear. The smell of burned flesh and fur and of his urine after he'd wet himself would be forever seared into his mind. After the biggest guard had burned him, another pulled off his pants and the rest of his clothes. He was held down again and the big guard came at him with a pair of scissors and hurt his ear. They laughed at his crying and herded him into a shower that reeked of cleaner and made his chest and ear hurt worse and his eyes sting. He then had to stand still as a guard ran her blue gloved hands all over his body and tugged at his fur. Then she forced his mouth open to look and feel around inside. When she was done, he was told to bend down, touch his toes, and hold his tail in his hands. When he felt fingers touch his butt and press uncomfortably at the place where poop came out, she smacked his leg with one of her angry hands and yelled at him to stop squirming. He was too inexperienced back then to know what a cavity search was, nor anything else that was happening to him. Crying for his mom, he was hit again and told to shut up and get dressed in the gray underwear and orange and green jumpsuit. The clothes Mommy had helped him pick out were forever gone and he would never wear his own clothing again for another eight years. 

Kurt scrubbed away the tears streaming down his face and tried to focus on the act of washing his body instead of that day. He was older now. He had escaped and the bastards couldn't touch him any more. He was safe in a house...a home...with new parents and a boyfriend who loved him. His mom would have liked them as much as he did. His new brother, on the other hand, would have to be taught a lesson.

His shower complete, Kurt dried himself off as best he could, tugged on a pair of minimal coverage, low rise sport briefs he'd taken to wearing for ease of access to his hamstring and bruised hip, ignored the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and headed back into the kitchen. He grabbed the bin of medical supplies and a change of clothes along the way, ignoring Blaine's quiet astonishment and questioning gestures. If Finn wanted to stare at the brand on his chest, he could stare at his other scars too and had better get used to seeing them. The routine he had with his parents was necessary until he had full use of his shoulder and hand again. Poor Blaine had it worse. He was still mostly dependent on bedpans and sponge baths, which embarrassed him to no end. Finn would surely flip if he ever walked in on those times. Kurt already had a curse-filled retort prepared to fire back if it happened.

Kurt strutted, with a limp, but a strut none-the-less, into the kitchen. Finn took only a quick glance at him before he resumed stuffing his face full of pancakes. His brother appeared determined to not look at him again as he put the supplies down and sat directly across from him at the table. At his mom's raised eyebrow, Kurt offered only a smirk in return. After the last visit to the clinic, she should be glad his bits were covered at all. He carefully placed his right arm back in the sling and took the offered plate of pancakes, eating slowly, and ignoring the chilly air against his mostly nude body. 

"Honey, are you almost finished? Surely, you must be cold and want to get dressed?" 

"I'm fine. Could I have another pancake, please?" Kurt affected his most innocent smile and sweetest tone of voice. His mom probably wasn't falling for his bullshit, but to everyone else, he could surely have won an Emmy with his performance.

There was only so far Carole was going to let Kurt play his game. It wasn't fair to her other son. "Let's get your leg wrapped up and clothes on first. Then if you're still hungry, you can have more, on the fold out couch with Blaine."

Kurt waited to reply until Finn reached for his glass of juice with his eyes at the perfect level, before he brushed aside his fur to reveal a particularly nasty scar that he'd gotten from being shoved into a locker. "My ribs hurt. Can you take a look at them?" 

"Kurt..."

"No, they really hurt! Last time someone broke my ribs, they didn't hurt this badly for this long. Are you sure I can't wrap them?"

"I'm sure." Carole sighed, but checked her son out anyway. "There's some fresh bruising. Have you been doing anything to strain them lately?"

"Only sex." Kurt shrugged the matter off using just his left shoulder, proud that he was learning to control his gestures better. 

"Mom!"

"Kurt!"

It was amazing the unison mothers and their children could have. As he expanded on his answer, Kurt swiveled his head back and forth between the two, making certain that many of the fresh scars on his head were on full display. Some of the ones on his jaw were multilayered and the fur would never grow back. "What? It's the truth. Blaine has a broken leg, a broken wrist, broken ribs, a dislocated tail that needed surgery to remove the crushed end, and a messed up eye. I've got a torn hamstring, a pulled ITB, a twice dislocated shoulder that needed surgery, broken ribs, two broken fingers, and hip that may or may not have a hairline fracture that isn't showing up on X-rays. Just going to the bathroom is a strenuous activity, let alone trying to have sex in there since Blaine and I aren't allowed to use our bed in the living room anymore." 

Why wouldn't his new brother shut up and put on some clothes? "Mom!" 

"You've never had sex, Finn? Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"What? Of course Rachel and I have se..." Finn realized what he'd just said and promptly shut up.

"Kurt, stop antagonizing your brother. And go easier on your activities or you'll end up needing surgery. Do you really want to delay moving to your upstairs room?" Carole let it hang in the air what the surgery would also require of him.

"Fine. I'll be good." Honestly, Kurt couldn't blame his mom for playing the clinic card. She was a nurse after all and had never lied to him about the extent of his injuries. However, he wasn't quite done with Finn yet. He ate the last bite of pancake on his plate, laid his fork down, and daintily wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Could you help me with my socks first? My feet are cold."

* * * * * * *

Later that morning, Carole was off to work, earlier than she had to be and mumbling something about hoping for less obstinate patients. Finn was holed up in his bedroom blasting music lest he accidentally hear his brother having sex - his words, as he stormed away from the breakfast table. Kurt and Blaine had a good laugh about it all.

"You are a horrible and mean person, Kurt!"

Kurt scrunched up his face with sudden worry. "It was funny though, right? I didn't go too far?"

"Yes, it was funny! Wish I could have been there to see it." Blaine stared at his boyfriend wistfully and then glared at his cast-covered leg elevated by a couple of throw pillows. "This sucks."

Kurt pulled back the singular blanket covering himself, pushed his pajama pants down and rucked up his long sleeved shirt and fleece vest. After he exchanged a heated kiss with Blaine, they both looked down to see that his skimpy, pale blue briefs now left even less to the imagination. "It was like that, minus the erection." 

"Not that I'm not very pleased to see...it, but what brought this on?"

"Do you know that one outspoken politician fighting against the administration and for the return of basic hybrid and human rights?"

"Of course." 

"I decided to put my own spin on something she said recently. I call it 'reclaiming my body'." Kurt reached a hand behind himself and unfastened the snap at the top of his briefs and then pulled and wiggled them off along with his pants. His erection had waned when the discussion turned serious, but that wasn't the point of the matter. "I've been touched and stared at and forced out of my clothes too many times. Now I get a say when I'm naked and when I'm stared at and who touches me."

"Kurt..." Blaine put out a hand to caress his boyfriend's cheek, but held back. He was pleased when Kurt reached out and placed it there for him. "Did this start at your check up when you had that Naked Day and traumatized the staff and Burt?"

"It started before, with you I think." Kurt didn't hold back his grin as he shimmed in place, enjoying Blaine's focus on his dick. "It was a very naked Christmas if you recall."

Oh, he remembered and even recited the words he'd said to Kurt on that wonderful, rainy day. "Go, Buckeyes!"

Laughing, Kurt kissed his boyfriend and snuggled closer to him, He was quiet for awhile before he felt up to saying more. "Finn was staring at my chest after Carole took off my shirts. He said he had a friend with the same mark."

"I know. I heard."

Closing his eyes, Kurt let out a long, slow breath. "I had a flashback in the shower."

"Of the Screaming Day?" Blaine hated that he couldn't properly hold his boyfriend to comfort him. He knew all about that day same as Kurt knew about his own Inauguration and Burning Days. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"Thank you. After I was able to calm down, I decided to reclaim my body and let Finn stare at my scars all he wanted. For the record, I don't think he's ever going to look at me again." Kurt shared a soft laugh with Blaine and then remembered his current state of partial nudity, his now shriveled dick and nads on display to anyone who might walk near the living room. "I don't know, maybe it's stupid."

With a gentle hand, Blaine stopped his boyfriend from pulling the blanket back over himself. "It's not stupid, Kurt. Maybe the therapist will think it is, but I don't. It's empowering and gives you the body autonomy you were without for a long time." He moved his hand above Kurt's penis. "May I?" With permission granted, he began to stroke him back to a full erection, taking his time to touch all of his exposed body that was within reach. "I, for one, am all for more Naked Kurt and Naked Me times. You move and inspire me, Kurt."

Kurt let out a contented sigh of pleasure. For a guy with his wrist and half of his hand in a cast, he was amazingly dexterous with the exposed fingers he had to work with. Who knew that the touch of fingertips could be so sexy. Fortunately, he wasn't so far gone yet that he couldn't continue the conversation. "How so?"

"I've been wanting to 'reclaim my body' too. I want to do more intimate things with you."

Kurt stilled immediately. "I'm never going to get to that place, Blaine."

Blaine moved his hand to rest on his boyfriend's thigh, near, but no longer touching his genitals. "I would never ask for _that_ , Kurt. I keep thinking that maybe if I get to chose, with my partner's permission of course, when and who I put my mouth on, it'll erase the memories of when I didn't have that choice. And I would like that person to be you."

When given the okay to expose his boyfriend's erection and stroke it in return, Kurt concentrated on the firm weight of it in his hand, imagining how it would feel in his mouth and how different the experience would be from the times it was forced upon him. "I've been wanting that too. For that and a selfish reason."

"What?"

Kurt's eyes lit up with a playful grin as he replied with direct bluntness. "It would make our sex life so much easier. Handjobs are great, but let's face it, they're clumsy right now. Anal is out of the question until we either move into our bedroom upstairs or we're less restrained by casts and slings. Even simple grinding is awkward and difficult. But blowjobs? That's just a rollover and a mouth on a dick sprung free from its pants. Or you could sit down, say in the bathroom, and I could stand over you. Blowjobs could be a lot of fun now that the required body parts have healed."

"You really thought this through, didn't you?"

Kurt unbuttoned Blaine's pajama top and pressed heated kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and onwards, stopping only when he got to the thick patch of hair that was packed more densely above a very interested dick. "Maybe."

"I love your mind and your mouth!"

"Want to try it now?" 

Blaine thought for sure his brain had misfired and he'd heard wrong. But one look into Kurt's determined eyes and the love and lust he felt from every stroke of his fingers and tongue, made him certain that it was something they both wanted and were ready for. "Oh, god, yes." A long moan fell from his lips as Kurt started encircling the base of his cock with his tongue. The noise startled him. "Wait. What if Finn hears us? What if he comes down and sees us and...things?"

Kurt laughed, enjoying the reaction his warm breath had on his boyfriend's dick. "Seeing as how Finn probably thinks that gay, hybrid sex is full of crazy, torrid antics, I say be as loud as you want. And if he sees us and threatens to tell our parents? Let's just say I've seen his browser history and 'homework' file."

"You're sexy when you talk blackmail." Blaine cursed his brain for pausing their intimacy again, but being caught by the older Hummels once was embarrassing enough . "When's Burt going to be home?"

"Not until lunch time and I may or may not have accidentally locked the deadbolt to give us a few seconds warning should he come home early." Kurt licked up the underside of his boyfriend's dick and pulled another moan out of him when he lavished attention to the tip. "Any more questions?"

"I love you."

"That's not an answer, but I'll accept it. I love you too." Kurt shifted his weight so that he was leaning more on his uninjured arm and less on the thigh above Blaine's broken leg. He was enjoying the press of his tongue against the thickness of his partner's...engorged turgidity. Loved how it twitched when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Loved the mutual pleasure they were sharing. It was only when he took the fullness of his erection into his mouth and tasted the bitter drops of pre-cum did he have to stop and pull away. "It's okay. It's okay. You're safe."

Blaine searched his boyfriend's eyes for any signs that he was still with him. "Kurt, are you okay? I'm here for you. We can stop."

It took Kurt a few breaths before he could reply to his boyfriend's concerns. "Yes, I'm okay. Yes, we should stop. I mean, I'd like to stop. I really did enjoy it up to the last part."

"Too much?"

"Yeah. For now. Maybe I can work up to more."

"And it's okay if you never do nor want to try it again. Remember one of our rules - we don't do anything unless both of us are comfortable." Blaine stroked his boyfriend's leg, noting that certain parts still appeared interested.

With a teasing smirk, Kurt kissed Blaine's mouth, trailing his fingers up and down his flagging length. "Okay. Then I would like you to move your hand because your cast is uncomfortably close to my dick and I'd prefer not to break that too."

"Do you want to continue?"

Kurt scooted his body so that it was further up the bed and his bits were closer to his boyfriend's face. "Mouths away, Blaine!"

Blaine was pleased that he was able to last so long - licking, sucking, enjoying the sounds of pleasure his boyfriend made and the arching of his hips as he strained for more. He loved that they were positioned so that he could be stroked by hand. This was the love making between two consenting partners that he had always wanted. It was only when Kurt signaled that he was close to cuming did he pull off and finish taking him over the edge with his hand. Like Kurt, the taste of cum in his mouth was too much, too full of bad memories. The rest of their time together that morning had been perfect.

* * * * * * *

Kurt didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he heard clumping footsteps and a shouted, "Oh, god, Dude...Dudes...pants! Dad's home!" It took him a moment to figure out what Finn meant. He looked down to discover that he and Blaine were on full display and that those parts, at least, were fully awake. Happy Pantless Saturday! Or not. The sound of the front door opening made him scramble for a blanket to cover up their nudity and nudge Blaine to consciousness.

Burt took his time hanging up his coat and exchanging his winter cap for a lightweight OSU one. Finn's voice had carried and the deadbolt being locked always meant someone was up to something. A glance into the living room and seeing pants and underwear discarded on the floor was all it took to confirm his suspicions. 

Rubbing his head with sigh, he faced away from the doorway. "Kurt? I'm going to take a shower and when I come back, we're going to sit down and make a grocery list. Your mom said the stores have online sites where you can see what they have. So why don't you put on your pants and go load one of those up?"

Kurt looked around frantically for his underwear, only finding his boyfriend's and tossing them to him. "Oh, my god, he knows, Blaine!"

"I told you before, sound carries, Kurt. I thought we had a deal. Just...put condoms on the list if you need them." He looked up and could see a sliver of blue jean clad leg a little ways up the stairs. "That applies to you too, Finn. I want you boys to be safe with your partners." He chuckled to himself as the kid attached to the legs disappeared and noisily retreated to his room.

Now lying flat on the edge of the bed and looking under it, the last remnant of his erection faded at the thought of Finn humping one of those girls in the videos he had on the computer, Kurt couldn't help but mumble, "I am never having sex again." 

"That's what you said last time too, Kurt. I'm heading upstairs now." Burt thought about asking if one of the kitchen chairs had been defiled again, but didn't want to deal with Finn making a fuss. And honestly, that Kurt and Blaine could even have relations after all they'd been through was a relief. It was good they had each other. He just wished he didn't have to wait so long until the two boys could move up to their room, with a door, that locked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of an unnamed OC suicide, transphobia, and depictions of past child abuse & child non-con/molestation. This chapter was revised on February 3, 2018.
> 
> Years ago, when my son was little, I witnessed some female teachers watching a group of kids on a playground. One of them came up to a young kid and without saying anything, pulled on the collar of the back of their shirt to see what name was written on the tag. It was her way of seeing who belonged where. From what she and the other teachers were saying to each other, it was considered a perfectly acceptable thing to do because it was quicker to sort the kids that way. This was such an impersonal, dehumanizing act that it’s stuck with me and why I wrote a darker version of it into this chapter.


	11. Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's life was already a mess. His new brother wasn't helping matters.

\--------------

"Blaine, help me figure out what to wear to therapy." Kurt tossed another stack of clothes onto the bed. This pile he'd wrestled out of a tote on the back porch. He was amazed that he actually had this much. Living indoors and having generous parents had it's perks. 

"I don't think it matters, Kurt."

"Of course it matters, Blaine. If I dress too grungy, she's going to think Carole Mom and Dad aren't taking care of me. If I dress in the clothes Aunt Anne and Dani sent me, she's going to think I'm too rich to need a discount. I read on one website that you should wear comfortable clothes, but not ones you love because they're going to end up being associated with the treatment center."

"I read that site too. They were talking about people who get inpatient treatment. This is just an hour long session and you probably won't even cover that much with it being your first one."

"What are you wearing?"

"You mean aside from the too-big gray sweatpants I am doomed to be encased in for another two to four weeks?"

"Yes."

"Something that makes me feel confident. Burt gave me one of his old bow ties and I'm going to pair it with that Brooks Brothers navy polo shirt you found for me in the Goodwill dumpster."

"It only had a small, easily repairable tear. I can't believe no one saw the value in it." Kurt stared at the clothes on his bed. Most of them were finds or hand-me-downs and close to half had been repaired or altered. 

"Their loss is my gain." Blaine pulled a number of shirts close to himself so he could hold them up for Kurt. "Now, tell me, what makes you feel confident. I bet this red plaid flannel is doing it for you, right?"

"Only if I was a confident trucker or farmer." Kurt heard the clearing throat of his dad, having forgotten that he was in the room reading a trade magazine. "Or a successful mechanic who was generous enough to give it to me."

"Better." Burt returned to the article on hydraulic lifts, glad that his son was planning on actually wearing clothes. He dreaded their next visit to the clinic. 

Kurt stared at the clothes some more, finally picking up a pair of black pants. "How about these to start? They're hybrid designed and make my butt look amazing."

Blaine was about to reply that his boyfriend's butt always looked amazing, but then remembered who else was in the room. "Perfect. Do you have any hybrid designed shirts?"

"A few, but I think I'm thinking about the thin, cowl neck, gray hoodie. It fits under the sling well."

"A good choice, but you wear it a lot and if you're concerned about bad memories being attached to it, maybe you should pick something else." Blaine dug through a pile on the bed and pulled out a long sleeved navy button up Kurt had ordered from Millie & Marley's. "How about this? It's soft and compliments your eyes. You could pair it with your gray vest and wear an undershirt underneath everything to give you another layer. Plus, we'd match without being too matchy-matchy."

Kurt found the vest and arranged the garments on the bed, standing up and back to look at them from various angles. "I like it. The pants will give me confidence. The shirt, softness. And the layers, protection. I wish I had a newsboy hat. It could be an homage to 'Newsies' and hide this."

Blaine tried not to let his face fall as Kurt pointed to his clipped left ear. He had his own scars he preferred to hide and couldn't say he didn't understand. "Maybe we can find you one on eBay for next time."

"Good plan,"

Burt put his magazine down. "If the fashion crisis is over, it's time for you boys to start getting ready. We leave in an hour. Blaine, do you need help walking to the bathroom?"

"That would be nice. Thank you."

Burt helped Blaine stand up and limp to the bathroom, putting as little pressure on his leg as possible, wishing that the kid didn't have to go through any of this at all. Kurt was right on his heels, still determined to be as independent and do as much of their care as possible. "I'll be within earshot if you need two need anything. Try not to take too long."

* * * * * * *

Kurt didn't know what to expect the hybrid therapy office, hidden in the back of a cleaning company, to look like. He should have realized that the first word to come to mind when he entered it was "clean." Another word would have been "neat." The waiting room was spotless and smelled of citrus disinfectant and the discrete vanilla air fresheners placed around it. He was thankful the antiseptic smell was different than that of the Reformatory and clinic and wondered if that was a deliberate choice to help put clients at ease.

Orderly stacks of pamphlets and magazines had been placed upon two end tables bordering a short row of padded chairs. A water cooler stood by a cabinet upon which a coffee maker, disposable cups, and meticulously arranged bowls of individual coffee and creamer pods sat.

Kurt took only the briefest of glances at Miss "Please call me Emma" Pillsbury as she greeted them. He was too filled with anxiety to deal with people and dreading his turn alone with her. He knew he needed help, but the flashbacks, nightmares, and daily reminders of his life were bad enough. Blurting out, in fits of anger, some of the horrible things that had been done to him or being forced to tell them during an invasive medical exam were different than deliberately recounting the abuses to a stranger for the purpose of working through them so he could move on. It was a different kind of baring himself he wasn't ready for.

Blaine decided to go first, determined to walk in on his own, even though the cast on his wrist made using his crutches awkward and slow going. As he limped away, Kurt gave him a small smile that came out more forlorn than encouraging. Most of Blaine's pain was different than his own and he hid it well, always trying to put on a brave face and offering sentiments such as "courage," "prejudice is just ignorance," and "one day the world to come to realize we're just like everyone else and we'll be treated as equals." He wished he could be as optimistic as his boyfriend, but he didn't think he'd live long enough to see the idealistic world Blaine dreamed of. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw his dad stand up and leave, returning with a cup of water and handing it to him as he sat back down. "It's going to be okay, Bud."

He flinched when his dad patted his back, trying to offer comfort. "Please don't. I know you mean well, but I can't handle being touched. Not right now."

"I understand."

"Thank you."

Forty-five minutes of shared silence later, it was his turn. 

Leaning on his crutches, Blaine gave his boyfriend his most reassuring smile. "I think you'll like her, Kurt."

Kurt wasn't so sure, but he followed the therapist back to her counseling room, taking note of its plush navy couch and matching chairs. In-between the couch and one of the chairs stood a round end table with a box of tissues and a lamp that illuminated the room with a soft glow. He chose to sit on the right side of the couch, the farthest from the chair the therapist sat down on. Her appearance was as neat as her offices. Even her fur, a bright ginger-red, unique among humans, but even rarer among hybrids, had been brushed into smooth and gentle waves. The beige pencil skirt she wore was wrinkle free and it was paired with a lavender sweater and a simple yet colorful necklace. A beret that matched her sweater was titled stylishly on her head. He liked that her voice was soft and smile genuine. 

"Welcome, Kurt. First, I want you to know that anything you say in here will be kept with the utmost confidence. Nothing will be disclosed to your adoptive parents without your express permission unless I feel that your life or someone else's is in danger."

The former resident of the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory sighed. The assumption had been a benefit on the streets, but at times it got in his way. "Just because I was in juvie doesn't make me dangerous."

"I never said it did. I was just establishing basic protocols, to let you know that this is a safe place where you can talk about anything you feel you need to."

"What's the second thing?"

"The second thing?" Emma thought back to what she'd said. "Right. The second thing is that while you may have been referred to me by Doctor Jones at the hybrid clinic, your medical file was never disclosed to me. All I know is that you were a ward of the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory and have recently been taken in by a human couple who have chosen to raise you as their son. What you want to tell me beyond that is up to you."

The statement was a relief and he relaxed the arm he'd unconsciously wrapped around his waist. "That seems fair. Is there a third thing?"

"Yes, there is. I'd like to know what brought you to therapy and what you hope to get out of it."

Kurt thought about being stubborn and evasive, but if the therapist knew where he came from, then she knew the rumors or first hand accounts from other clients. Out of all the abuses that had been done to him and others, there was one thing that had been on his mind since he was mature enough to fully comprehend his imprisonment at the Reformatory and the world outside of it. "I want someone to tell me why they keep getting away with it. Why Commandant Ryerson and Schue and the rest of the guards and the social worker who took me away from my mom and put me in that hell hole will never be arrested for what they've done. Why everyone knows the kids there are abused and molested, have been for decades, and no one has stopped it. Why people like you and me are considered no more sentient than the animals that inhabit this planet. Why the bigots ignore scientific evidence proving otherwise and shake their bibles swearing that we're the ungodly heathens, when they're the ones cherry picking passages from their sacred book in order to bolster their pathetic selves up and justify raping, murdering, and enslaving our kind. Tell me why I was taken away from my mom when I was six years old and put in a place where I was burned and beaten and raped all because my mom and I were poor and I was hungry and ate food before paying for it. Tell me why that was okay. Maybe I can get better if I just knew why."

Emma's eyes grew wide at the unexpected outburst. She had expected elusiveness from the quiet young man. And though the names had been spoken in the room by other clients, one in particular continued to startle her. 

Kurt's eyes quickly matched his therapist's as he saw her hat slip and reveal her clipped ear. "You know? Firsthand, you know?"

"No, I was never there."

He hated when people lied to him. "I was locked up for eight years. I know the mark. You were."

Emma straightened her skirt and took four deep breaths before answering. "This isn't normally something I tell my patients, Kurt, or anyone really. I dated a guy once, a human, who had an unusual fascination with hybrids. We were drinking one night and I started feeling dizzy, so I went to lie down. When I woke up, my ear was like this. When I reported it to the police, it was my word against his. It turned out that he wasn't a Spanish teacher and coach of the glee club at the high school. Or at least, he hadn't been for a long time. He was a guard at the Reformatory and well connected enough that the police refused to press charges." Emma took four more slow breaths, counting them as she did so. "So, while I've never experienced exactly what you have, Kurt, I can sympathize with what you're feeling. We could discuss politics, the power of the privileged, and the history of systematic racism, but I don't think that's what you're looking for. Unfortunately, I don't have any answers that would make any of what happened to you right. What I can do is help you process the trauma and teach you some proactive techniques to better cope with it."

"Like what?" Kurt took his own deep breaths. He'd forgotten how much Schue and Ryerson liked singing. It was the reason he'd never joined the Reformatory's glee club. He had wanted at least one part of himself that wasn't tainted by their perverse proclivities. 

"Like focusing on the permanent objects around you when you feel a panic attack coming on. Say to yourself, 'this is a couch,' 'this is a book,' 'this is a lamp,' and try to get your breathing under control."

"I already do that. I read about it in a book at the library."

"Has it helped?"

"Some. Not all the time."

"And what happens when it doesn't work?"

A huff of self-deprecation escaped Kurt's lips as he answered the question. "I do stupid things." 

"Do you hurt yourself or others?"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably on the couch and studied the floor. It was covered with a nice carpet - very blue and complementary of the furniture in the room. "Unless dying of embarrassment counts, then, no."

"Would you care to expand on that?"

"Not particularly."

"That's fine. I'd like to suggest that you keep a journal and write down the things that trigger you - loud noises, smells, sights. Describe how they made you feel and then how you acted on those feelings. I would also like to suggest anti-anxiety medication. Doctor Jones or Doctor Howell can prescribe it and you can have it filled at the clinic."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head. His first entry in his journal was going to be all about the evil clinic and the humiliation it forced upon him. Out loud he asked, "What is that place? A magical one stop shopping center-underground hospital for the hopeless hybrid?"

"You got it in one, minus the magic of course. It's run by those with very deep pockets and people, humans and hybrids, who want to help us out and are willing to look the other way when supplies go missing or get sold for half their cost. Even the smallest act or gift gets put to use."

"I never heard of it before. You'd think the homeless community would know."

"It's not advertised, Kurt, and it's a fairly new operation. How long were you on the streets?"

Kurt did the calculations in his head. "One year and eight months. Two of those though were living inside the Hummels' house, so I don't know if they count."

Emma made a note of the information on the pad of paper she had placed upon her lap. "And how has that time been?"

Kurt hadn't thought the therapist was stupid, but her question certainly was. He pointed to his scarred face and sling. "How do you think life is out there?"

"I meant with the Hummels."

"Oh. Sorry. It's good. Different, but I'm coming to trust them. That was hard."

"That's understandable. Is there anything else you'd like to share?"

Kurt took in several deep breaths trying to find a way to express his feelings with words that wouldn't come across as ungrateful. "It's weird having a brother. I don't think Finn's used to it either. It's like a forced family, you know? In the Reformatory, I had a made family, but each of us knew that in the end, you looked out for yourself. We had each other's backs, to a point. You did what you had to survive. This is just...different."

"In what other ways would you say it's different?"

"Most times, it's like having a mom again. A mom and a dad. Just the four of us with Blaine and they all get me. Then every few months Finn will come home and it's like I'm back at the Reformatory. I can't trust him not to steal my food or stare at me, and he's pissed that Blaine and I are in the living room all the time." Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's jealous of the attention Burt and Carole give me."

"And maybe you're jealous too, of the attention they give Finn?"

"I didn't ask for them to be my parents or get the shit beaten out of me."

"That's not what I asked, Kurt."

"I do as much as I can for myself and Blaine, but sometimes we need help. Mom's a nurse and dad's not incompetent. It's nice having people who care about me. If Finn's jealous that they give me hugs and call me their son that's not my fault. I'd rather he just stay out of my and Blaine's way."

Emma was about to bring up Kurt's boyfriend, but the discrete timer on her watch pinged. "I'm afraid our time is up. I feel that a family session might be a good idea. Would you be up to that?"

"Why bother? Finn's going to be gone at the end of the week. He's just some guy who lives there sometimes. I lived with dozens at the Reformatory. The only difference is that I'm not locked up with creepy racists. Finn is the least of my problems." 

"Alright, I'll respect your wishes. Will you consider going on medication?"

"Can my mom pick up the prescription for me or do I have to go back to the clinic for another invasive check up with Doctor Stick Things Up My Ass?"

Emma pressed her lips together. Kurt wasn't her first difficult client and his vulgarity was unpleasant, but she knew it for what it was. He was scared and protecting himself. Given what she suspected he'd been through, it was an understandable response. "Your mom can contact Doctor Howell or Doctor Jones and make the arrangements. I can't speak for them, but I'm sure something can be worked out."

"Fine." Kurt left the room dejected. Another thing he had no choice in. This was just medicine to fix his brain chemistry though. Surely they wouldn't need a full exam for that, no matter which doctor he got stuck with. 

Burt looked up as he heard his son come towards him. He was wearing the same quiet sadness as Blaine. But whereas Blaine's was mixed with a sense of optimism, Kurt's was tainted with the resigned hopelessness he'd seen far too often on the boy. "You okay, Kiddo?"

"I don't know."

"How about I treat you boys to some take out. Anywhere you want."

"You don't have to, Dad."

"I know, but parents like to spoil their kids on rough days."

Kurt gave his dad a small smile for the kindness. He wasn't sure he could eat though, not with the thought of having to go back to the clinic and all he'd talked about with the therapist swirling in his head. "Blaine, you pick."

"Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

Burt was pleased at Kurt's nod of agreement. "Great. Let's get you home and settled. Figure out what you want and I'll pick it up. I think they started selling some Long John Silver's items too, Kurt."

At this Kurt perked up. His dad was great at nurturing food therapy. "I'm in."

Noticing the therapist standing by with quiet expectation, her appointment book in hand and watching their interactions, Burt realized that the boys had conveniently forgotten to mention that their time here wasn't quite over. "Let me get your next appointment with Miss Pillsbury scheduled and we can go. When would you like to see them next?"

"Same time next week, unless you feel you need to see me sooner, Kurt? Blaine?"

"Next week is fine, thank you." Blaine gave the therapist a pleased smiled and accepted his boyfriend's help in making his way towards the door.

"Bud? You never answered Miss Pillsbury's question."

"I'm going to help Blaine to the truck. Whatever you two want for me is fine." Kurt refused to look back, the brief moment of happiness over the promise of deep fried fish gone. Another rough day, as his dad had called it, wasn't something to look forward to. 

* * * * * * *

"That's it, Kurt, work the toggle with your left hand and keep pressing the A button with your right pointer finger. Blaine, try closing your uninjured eye for a minute and see how the other one feels. You guys can do it. Together, we can defeat the Penguin!"

Finn rubbed his stomach as he headed to the kitchen, hoping there were some Pop-Tarts left. Chocolate Pop-Tarts and a ham and cheese sandwich would make a great breakfast-lunch. He thought he heard his old high school friend Sam in the living room, which was weird because he hadn't seen him since they graduated. To check to see if he was dreaming, he went into the living room. Maybe Dream Sam could help him get a better score on Call of Duty. It wasn't a dream. "Hi, Sam."

"Hey, Finn. Long time no see, Dude. What's up?" Sam turned back to the game. With his help, Kurt and Blaine were totally kicking ass on the easy level.

"I'm on Spring Break. I didn't know you knew Kurt."

"Oh, yeah, we go way back. He's cool." Sam shared a laugh with Kurt. Way back, all the way to January. 

"We should hang. Invite some of our old friends and play some games like we used to."

"That'd be cool, Dude."

"Cool." Finn nodded his head as he thought about which friends were likely to be home and come over. Today was going to be awesome. Both of his parents were going to be out till late and he'd have the whole house to himself. All he had to do was convince Kurt and Blaine not to tell on him. He could probably bribe them with cereal or something.

* * * * * * *

"What the hell are you doing, Finn?" 

"I'm folding up the couch. What does it look like?"

Ten minutes in the bathroom, that's all he was gone for, helping Blaine walk in there so he wouldn't have to go in a bedpan. He'd come back out to search for toilet paper only to discover his brother trying to fold up the couch with all of their bedding still on it. "You can't do that! Blaine and I sleep here."

"You can go to your room upstairs. I'm having friends over and we need the space."

"Did you ask Mom and Dad? You know they'd say no."

Finn didn't know why Kurt was so mad. It wasn't fair that the rules were different for him. And he was tired of Kurt dominating the house and clogging up the living room. It was Spring Break and he deserved to enjoy it. "Why? You have your friends over. I can have mine. So either help me move your crap or I'm tossing it all on the back porch."

"What friends?" Finn ignored his question and still hadn't figured out the couch couldn't be folded up without being stripped. Kurt had no choice but to take the sheets, blankets, and pillows off and toss them on the reclining chair. He tried again to get Finn to see reason. "You can't do this to us! Blaine has a broken leg! Why the hell do you think we sleep here?"

"Blaine has crutches. He'll be fine."

"I'm going to tell Mom and Dad!" Kurt grabbed his clothes away from Finn. The asshole was pulling them off the shelving unit and dumping them on the floor. 

"And I'm going to tell them you and Blaine are always naked. It's gross!"

"I was giving Blaine a sponge bath." Well, technically it had started out as a sponge bath, but Finn didn't need to know that.

"Is that what you hybrids call sex or is that a gay thing? Whatever it is, it's weird, Dude."

"I'm not your dude, Finn and I've seen your browser history and porn file! Want Mom and Dad to find out about that?"

"Well I've seen your dick too many times. And they were my parents first! You're just some stupid stray fur they took in. Now either help or get out of my way."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head and his tail thrashed behind him. "Fuck you!"

"Go to hell!"

"Already been there!" 

"Kurt?"

Kurt turned around at the anguished sound of Blaine's voice. He was hopping on one leg, trying to make his way over to the couch. One of his crutches had fallen to the ground, just out of reach. He rushed over to help get him seated. Finn, of course, had stormed off in a huff, muttering something about finding his dad's secret stash of chips for the party.

"What are we going to do, Kurt?"

Kurt looked around him, frantic. He was furious and terrified, adrenaline surging through his body. "We don't have a choice but to hide. I can't find my phone to call Mom and Dad."

"Land line?"

"I don't remember their numbers. I'll get you upstairs and then I'll pack up our stuff."

"I can help. Go get bags."

Kurt retreated to the kitchen and grabbed some garbage bags. He hurled a string of curses at Finn that started with his Frankenstein's Monster height and ended with his poo flinging, banana eating, dumb as a rock ancestry. Apparently, his stupid human brother couldn't search for food and think at the same time because all he got in return was "mouse breath." 

Back in the living room, Kurt removed his sling. He didn't have a choice if they were going to get everything upstairs in time. After four weeks his shoulder was surely healed enough. 

Blaine was using his injured arm as well. Their situation was too precarious to try and fight Finn further and he wasn't in any condition to run from the house and live back on the streets. The fact that Kurt could be arrested and sent back to the Reformatory terrified him.

Despite the garbage bags, it took Kurt multiple trips to move everything upstairs and into their bedroom. Finn had even insisted the plastic shelving unit and privacy screen be removed from the living room. He hoped they hadn't forgotten anything because he wasn't in any shape to make another trip. The sharp pain in his left leg was a clear sign he'd re-torn his hamstring. And his shoulder? It felt like it was on fire. Even the elbow he'd injured last year was sore and that didn't usually hurt unless the weather was bad. None of his pain mattered though because he had to get his boyfriend up to their room and as safe as possible.

Kurt was trying to figure out which way would be easiest to help Blaine get up the stairs when they heard a car pull up in front of the house. Frantic, he reached under Blaine's armpits and pulled, helping his boyfriend scoot backwards, moving up one step at time, trying to keep the pressure and weight on his uninjured leg and wrist. Unfortunately, they'd both forgotten that doing such would put undue stress on Blaine's tail that had already sprung loose from its sling. Blaine tried to muffle his gasps of pain, focused only on moving as fast as he could. Finn going out to greet his friends gave them the few extra minutes they needed to make it inside their bedroom, lock the door, and shove the bureau in front of it. 

Now barricaded in, Kurt looked for an escape route. The room's only window gave him a brief moment of hope until Blaine silently pointed to what lay below and just a few steps left - Finn's guests lingering on the steps to the front porch. Still, Kurt debated tearing up the bed's sheets and tying them together just in case. Again, his boyfriend shook his head. Neither of them were in any shape to climb down from a second story window. Resigning himself to their fate, Kurt picked up the baseball bat he'd found in the room's closet and stood on alert by the door. He'd failed to protect his boyfriend before, but like last time, he wasn't about to go down without a fight. 

* * * * * * *

Kurt didn't have time to actually take in the decor of his and Blaine's bedroom until he was in it for good with nothing else to do but await the rest of their fate. The walls were the standard beige he'd seen touted as the perfect neutral color for any room and yet in reality ended up being plain, dull, and ugly. They would definitely need to be repainted. Vogue said that Dior Grey was all the rage, but he'd had a lifetime's worth of cinder block walls, metal bars, and cement floors. Perhaps a palette of white with some stylish crimson bedding or maybe cream with fresh blue and green accents. It was nice having a say in what he wore and slept under. Not that the navy blue comforter was ugly, but the cowboy bed sheets had obviously been Finn's at some point in his childhood and the faded, mismatched pillowcases were likely from older, less favored sets. 

Mental redecorating done, he and Blaine listened to the conversations they heard going on both inside and outside the house. Blaine focused on peering through a slim gap in the window's curtains since he could reach it while seated on the bed. Kurt remained at the door, trying to keep his weight on his one good leg. He was surprised that his dad hadn't been exaggerating. You really could hear everything going on in the living room. There went his sex life. Until he and Blaine moved into this room permanently, they were going to have to wait till no one was home or only do it in the bathroom. Waiting until his parents were upstairs was no longer an option unless he could guarantee they were soundly asleep. 

They watched as Finn's friends arrived. For a Friday afternoon in the middle of a semester, there seemed to be a lot of them available and over half were apparently named Dude. The one called Jesse, Kurt hated immediately. He could hear him and his smug voice talking to Finn's girlfriend in living room.

"Rachel, does Finn have a pet? There's fur everywhere."

"I don't think so."

"Finn, there you are. I was just asking Rachel if you have pets."

"Uh...yeah. I mean, no. We were dog sitting for a friend. Why?"

"Your couch is covered in fur. It's unsanitary and not something one would normally want their guests to see. I could loan you my maid. She's one of those hybrids. They make excellent servants if you train them well enough. Not good for much else, though my mother likes watching our pool boy if you know what I mean. You probably don't. His uniform is a pair of Speedos. My father doesn't mind. He has his own arrangement with our maid. I like to use them for vocal practice. They can hear in higher ranges than people which is useful to me in order to keep my own extensive range in peak shape. The musical theatre program at the University of Los Angeles expects it. Perhaps you've heard of it. It's in Los Angeles."

"Would anyone like a Coke? I sure am thirsty! Come on Rachel, let's go get a drink."

It was Rachel who spoke next, clearly ignoring Finn's attempt to change the subject of conversation. "I have a secret to confess. I'm one sixteenth hybrid. One of my gay dads told me that when I was born, I had a little tail. They had it removed of course so that it wouldn't interfere with my balance when I danced. I started competing when I was just a few months old, so I'm glad they did."

"That would explain your higher range, Rachel, and the fact that I'm more intellectual than you. But don't worry, with my continued guidance I can help you overcome that unfortunate part of yourself."

"How about some chips? I think Matt brought chips and dip and Artie scored us beer and those pink wine coolers you like, Rachel."

Kurt was glad when Finn finally convinced them to move to the kitchen because he was seriously ready to go punch Jesse Saint Sucks. He'd show the racist bastard what else hybrids were good at.

Fortunately, the rest of Finn's friends seemed more interested in playing video games, drinking, and talking about football. Boring he could take. The auditory lesson on human on human mating habits? No. Finn and Rachel had begun sucking face on the steps that lead upstairs. It was like listening to a T-rex eating a juicy human. And he had never needed to know that Finn's girlfriend squeaked when her boobs were touched. Blaine's look of horror spoke for them both.

The sounds of video games and hormonal college students playing tonsil hockey was eventually drowned out by karaoke. Jesse felt that he and Rachel should entertain the party goers as practice for when they were famous and asked to sing at the private events of Hollywood and Broadway's elite. At least they were good, even if Rachel did hog the microphone for her own solo performances and duets with any male lead she felt was up to her own exacting standards. Surprisingly, that included Finn and Kurt had to grudgingly admit they sounded great together.

However, being musically entertained didn't lessen his and Blaine's predicament. They were in pain. They were pissed. They were terrified to move around too much lest they be discovered. A squeaky floorboard had already made Jesse question Finn again about having a pet. Part of not being able to move around much meant that neither could go hunting for the pain killers, urinals, and bedpans. The only thing they had going for them was the stash of protein bars and bottles of water they had thought to bring up. Well, the food had been. The water bottles no longer held water and were starting to stink up the room. 

The afternoon wore on to evening and then complete nighttime. There wasn't a clock in the room and neither remembered if Burt and Carole were running errands or having a date night after work. Why had he and Blaine convinced his parents that they didn't need a home health aid for more than a few hours a day? Surely Sam never would have allowed this to happen or at least tried to convince Finn not to lock them away. Sam had been invited to the party of course, but begged off as he had his other clients to see, followed by his night classes at the community college and then his side job as White Chocolate. It was theme night at Scandals and he would be dressing up as a lifeguard. He and Blaine had both reassured Sam that the guys would love it.

A gay bar in Lima Heights would have been preferable to where he was now. Without help, they were trapped and it didn't look like they'd be freed anytime soon. Kurt sank down to the floor, unable to stand up any longer. Baseball bat resting on his thighs, he exchanged yet another worried and despondent look with Blaine. For the hundredth time, he wished he had his cell phone, but knowing his luck it probably wasn't charged.

He hated this. He hated being trapped and scared. He was supposed to be safe here. He'd accepted Burt and Carole as his parents because they'd always treated him like he was worth something, like he was a person, like he mattered. Not once had they hurt him or shown him anything but kindness and generosity. When they'd found him sleeping under their porch, they hadn't chased him off. They'd fed him, clothed him, talked to him, built him a shelter, given him medicine when he was sick, and always let him decide how much of their offerings he would take. They didn't chase him off when they'd found out he was gay or turn him into the police. They took in Blaine because it was the right thing to do when they easily could have turned him into social services or left him to fend on his own, broken leg or not. He may have been the one they called son, but they treated Blaine like one too. 

How could people like that end up with a stupid human son who got jealous of the weird hybrid gay kid? It wasn't his fault that their parents hugged him, made sure he got fed first, and told Finn he wasn't allowed to hog the TV or play video games in the living room until 3 o'clock in the morning.

Okay, so maybe he would take the gallon of milk and bring it into the living room to make sure he and Blaine could have some for breakfast. Finn ate so much cereal it was baffling how Burt and Carole could afford to feed him. At least Finn's nineteen year old metabolism and his parents wanting to spoil him a bit while he was home meant more pizza nights and he and Blaine were given their own large pizza to split. 

And maybe he did walk around in his underwear and sometimes nothing but a loosely-tied bathrobe too much just to piss the guy off, but in the morning it was necessary. And fine, he and Blaine had gotten a bit overzealous ever since they'd discovered that consensual blowjobs were so much better than just getting handsy under the covers. It wasn't his fault that sex made them sleepy, clothes were hard to put back on with their injuries, that Blaine tended to hog the covers, and together they kicked them off when they slept. Fuck him and his xenophobic, homophobic, food hogging, prudish attitudes. The only thing Finn had going for him right now was that he hadn't agreed with that guy Jesse. Of course, he hadn't disagreed with or told him off either. And it hadn't stopped him from throwing the damn party in the first place. 

Fucking hell everything hurt. 

* * * * * * *

Kurt hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he heard his dad shouting and his name being called out. Immediately he was on alert and nudged the bed to wake up Blaine. 

"We told you not to have anyone over without our permission and knowing who they were first. I want all of these people out. Now!"

"I didn't do anything wrong. It's just a party."

"Where's Kurt? Where's Blaine? Did they leave? Finn, where did they go?"

"They're just upstairs. Sheesh!"

"Rachel, go home."

"Finn, what's going on? Who's Kurt and Blaine?"

"I'll call you later, okay? Just go like my dad said. Take Jesse with you."

Kurt heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and then a knock on the door. It was his mom's voice. His dad was still yelling downstairs for everyone to go home. The resentful groans and silence of some shooter video game made it clear that the system had been turned off without warning. 

"Kurt? It's Carole Mom. Can you let me in?"

"Is it safe?"

"It will be soon, Sweetie. No one's upstairs if that's what you're worried about. Is Blaine with you?"

"Yes."

"Are you two okay?"

Kurt looked back at his boyfriend, sitting up in the bed, wiping his eyes, and trying to remember where he was. Pain still wracked his body. It was a feeling he shared. "No."

"Can you let me in?"

"You're sure it's safe?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." Kurt pushed at the bureau, swearing it felt heavier than before. It was a struggle, but eventually he was able to get enough of it moved out of the way to allow the door to be opened and his mom to slip through. He picked back up the baseball bat and relocked the door just in case. His mom was safe, but clearly some of Finn's friends weren't.

Carole had been expecting her son and his boyfriend to be scared and maybe hungry. What she hadn't expected was to see was Kurt's sling off, a bat gripped tightly in his injured hand, and Blaine sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling his broken wrist. Both boys were clearly hurting and pee bottles and food wrappers had been shoved into a corner of the room. 

Kurt said words he never thought he'd utter willingly, "I think we need to go to the clinic."

"I'll let your dad know and tell Finn to stay home."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head as he replied, voice dripping with pent up fury and resentment. "Let him come. Make him see what he did to us stupid furs. Even in solitary confinement I had access to a toilet."

Carole gasped at the racial slur. Surely her son didn't feel that way. She had raised him better. The anger on Kurt's face was clear though, Finn had used it and obviously hadn't listened to a word she'd said about needing to protect his brother and Blaine. Intentional or not, he had caused them to be hurt. This went beyond fighting with a new sibling and he needed a lesson on consequences. "I'll be right back. We're going to fix this, Kurt. I promise."

Kurt let out a long sigh. All the fight he had drained out of him. He was exhausted and just wanted the day over with. He loved Burt and Carole and knew they loved him, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Finn was their real son. He and Blaine were just some homeless kids they took pity on. "It doesn't matter anyway. Forget what I said. Finn doesn't have to come. Your son didn't do anything wrong. We're fine. We just need a ride to the clinic and Blaine needs his crutches. I didn't have time to bring them to the room before the party started."

Carole's heart broke as she realized what her son was implying. "Kurt, we're not abandoning you."

Kurt took only a brief glance at Carole before gathering up the rest of the protein bars and shoving them into his pockets. She had been a great mom, but those never lasted. The world didn't work that way. Not for him and not for Blaine. "I can't be locked up like this. Not again. If we can't have a ride, could we at least have some Advil? I couldn't find it when I moved our stuff upstairs. We'll leave through the back door so no one sees us. I know a place we can sleep for the night." Kurt looked to Blaine who nodded in agreement. They'd worked this out hours ago. It would be hell living on the streets in their state, but they could manage. The clinic or Miss Pillsbury might know of some resources for Blaine. And if not, there were other abandoned stores and warehouses they could hide out in until their injuries healed enough to move on. He still had his old maps. If they got far enough away from Lima there was a chance no one would have heard of the Reformatory. He had still been arrested though, so he had a file, but his ear and branding wouldn't give him away.

"Kurt, you're not listening to me. This is your home. No one is going to make you leave. We're going to get to the bottom of this with Finn. Just, let me go tell your dad. I'll be right back." Carole went to hug her son but he flinched away. His eyes were glazed over and she doubted he was aware that he was talking to himself out loud. Blaine wasn't responsive either. His eyes were focused on Kurt and he was doing what he could to help him pack up their things. 

When Carole left, Kurt searched the room again for their medications and finally found them at the bottom of a bag of clothes. He emptied one of their knapsacks onto the bed and repacked it with essentials. They'd have to get the rest of their food from the back porch and their coats from the rack by the front door. He didn't think Burt and Carole would deny them those. And he still had a little money stashed away from the time he was able to work at the garage. He should probably wrap his ribs. They would hurt less that way. 

It was Blaine's hand on his arm that pulled him out of his thoughts and towards the argument going on downstairs. 

"Why can't I have friends over? Kurt does!"

"Sam is his home health aid."

"They were playing video games."

"As part of their therapy."

"Finn, if any one of those people you had over knew about Kurt, they could tell someone and he could be sent back to the Reformatory. This is why we need to be told before you have friends here. We have to take precautions."

"If Kurt was in juvie, doesn't that mean he's dangerous? Why is he even here? Is he holding you hostage?"

"Kurt isn't the danger. The Reformatory is, Finn. We've told you this."

"Puck said that's where all the bad asses get sent."

"Do you want to know Kurt did? He ate a donut in the grocery store before his mom could pay for it. He was just a little kid who was hungry and didn't know any better."

"Why would that land him in juvie?"

"Because someone who hates hybrids saw him do it and called the police. They arrested him and his mom. We don't know for sure, but we think his mom died while in police custody. They kept Kurt locked up for eight years before he escaped. It was a really bad place. The guards, they do...things...to the older kids. We found him sleeping under our porch and eating garbage out of the cans. No one deserves either of those lives, Finn."

"Can't he just go to a shelter?"

"The shelters aren't safe and most won't take his kind. We've been over this. Kurt is our son now and your brother. There's no arguing this. And what you did to him and Blaine? That's unacceptable. Get on your coat. Your mom's going to check them out and then we're going to the hospital."

"What do you mean what I did? They've just been upstairs. I'm in my room all the time."

"You really don't know?"

"No."

"You hurt them, Finn. They were down here because they can't move around a lot. Blaine especially because of his leg."

"They had to pee into water bottles." 

"What?"

"They were too scared to use the upstairs bathroom, Finn. You locked them away like they were animals. We taught you better than this."

Finn let out a frustrated growl. "I don't..."

"Get on your coat and start cleaning up your mess. Your mom and I are going to go get Kurt and Blaine. Then we're all going to the hospital so you can see exactly what you did. And when we get back, you're cleaning up their room too."

Kurt couldn't sit still while everyone was yelling. He needed to move. He needed to escape. So he pulled the knapsack over his shoulders, picked up a garbage bag with more of their stuff, and helped Blaine down the stairs. They had figured out that Blaine sliding down on the side of his good leg made it easier. At the bottom of the landing, Kurt took only a brief glance at the people who had stopped their argument to stare at him, and after making sure his boyfriend was leaning on the railing and putting weight only on his good leg, he headed into the living room. "It's fine. We're fine. We'll go now. I just need to find Blaine's crutches." He looked around the living room and saw the tip of one sticking out from under the couch. The pain from retrieving it made him gasp out loud.

"Kurt!"

"It's okay, Blaine. I'm going to get you to safety. Just let me get the other one." Kurt stuck his hand under the couch again pulling out the crutch and a handful of change, hoping no one saw him pocketing it. Stealing never had been his forte'.

"Kurt! Burt, Carole, I can't get him to stop."

Kurt felt arms around him and he leaned into the hug. He was going to miss getting them. "You were a really good dad."

"I still am your dad, Kiddo. Come on, let's get you into the truck."

"Where are we going?"

"To the clinic. We're going to get you and Blaine checked out."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Son. You're not fine at all. But we're going to fix that. Give us a chance to make things right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but this chapter kicked my ass so hard. All I could do was try my best. Thanks go out to: notenoughtogivebread - my sounding board, avengerco - my beta, proofreader, & spouse and MAPMonstersArePerceptions who asked what Finn thought of having Kurt as more than the homeless kid his parents were helping out and being told he's now his brother. This chapter was revised on February 4, 2018.


	12. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn tries to understand why Kurt is so mad. Kurt continues to hate the clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for recounting of past sexual assault. Thanks again to notenoughtogivebread for being my sounding board and answering medical questions that I couldn't google. And as always, a huge thank you to all who comment. You keep me going. This chapter is shorter than the others, but it fit the theme. This chapter was revised on February 5, 2018.

\--------------

"Kurt, can you come back to us? Do you know who I am?"

Kurt flinched away from the light being shined in his eyes. "I hate you."

"I can live with that. But do you know who I am?"

Kurt glared at the doctor with loathing. "Doctor Sticks Things Up My Ass. Are you here to give me another rectal exam?"

"Do you feel you need one? Have you been engaging in any unsafe sexual activity or any other activity that may have damaged your anus or rectum?"

"No." Kurt watched as the doctor made a note of his answer in his medical file. Her small, pleased smiled irritated him.

"Then, no. I'm the attending physician on call tonight so I'll be doing your initial exam. Do you know where you are?"

"Hell." 

"And where would that be exactly?"

"The clinic." Kurt shut his eyes, wishing he could shut off his nose as effectively. The nauseating reek of antiseptic alone would have tipped him off even if the evil doctor hadn't been present.

"Do you know why you're here?"

It took him a minute to come up with the answer, but eventually his brain retrieved images of helping his boyfriend up a flight of stairs and being locked in a room so some idiot could throw a party. "Because Finn's an asshole. Go give him a probe exam. He deserves it." Kurt took stock of his surroundings and what had been done to him while he was out. He was on an examination table, which he expected, but was wearing a medical gown and nothing else, which he hadn't. "Well that's going to give me nightmares and another thing for the therapist to sort out."

"What is, Kurt?"

"Someone stripped me naked while I was asleep. I didn't consent to that. I only hurt my shoulder and leg. You could have at least left my underwear on. Thought you all would be tired of seeing my dick by now." 

"It's standard procedure in an emergency, Kurt."

The insufferable doctor just kept standing there like she'd done nothing wrong and he hated her for it. "I told you, I just hurt my shoulder. It wasn't an emergency."

"Kurt, what's the last thing you remember?"

Kurt turned towards the new voice in the room. He hadn't realized Carole was there. "Being locked up in a room all day, telling you that you didn't have to choose between me and Finn, and asking for a ride here for Blaine. Is he okay?" Blaine was what mattered. He always mattered. They didn't need to see his dick and balls to help his boyfriend. 

"He's having X-rays taken. Your dad is with him."

Kurt sat up on the exam table wincing when he put weight on his arms in the process. He was glad Blaine was being treated. Carole's use of familiar language and soft tone irritated him to his core. "Don't use words you don't mean. I may not remember everything, but I know there was a lot of yelling and I told you I wasn't going to bother you anymore. All I wanted was for Blaine to get some help. And I'd like some Advil and my pants back. I think I deserve that much."

"Kurt, we're still your parents."

"Parents don't last. Nothing good lasts. Not for my kind. Not for Blaine's because he can't pass. We don't have human privilege." Kurt looked around the small enclosure for any sign of his clothes, but came up empty. "If I can't have the pain killers can I at least have some pants? It's freezing outside and I can't have my dick fall off on the way to the 7-11. If the closet case clerk doesn't have a cock to suck off I can't get any in trade." He hated that he'd become so desperate again, but his choices had been stripped from him along with his clothes. The pain wasn't something he could ignore and it was the quickest way he knew to score meds. If he imagined the guy was Blaine, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as last time.

"Kurt, we're not choosing between our sons. Finn will be punished for this. We're not going to prevent you from leaving, but we'd really like you to stay. We never want anyone to ever touch you inappropriately again."

People were always touching him inappropriately. One of them was standing beside the exam table. "Then why was Doctor Probe allowed to do what she did?"

"I was the one who undressed you and put you in the medical gown, Kurt. I insisted it be me in order to protect your privacy and to reassure you if you woke up while it was happening."

The small relief that it had been Carole who had taken off his clothes wasn't enough and it wasn't the question he wanted answered. "Not that. Before."

"I explained the exam to you, Kurt. It was to assess if you had any injuries or an STI given your history."

"It felt like a violation to me." They still didn't get that his consent had been forced. He'd had the shit beaten out of him. Reliving his worst nightmare could have waited. He fucking hated this place.

"I am truly sorry for that. Tonight, we just need to check you out for current injuries. You said your shoulder and leg are bothering you. What else?"

My ribs, my elbow, my hand with the broken fingers, my wrist. God, he was fucked over. "Just a regular exam? You swear? No touching my dick or sticking fingers and alien devices up my ass?"

"Yes, to the regular exam. No, to the others unless you feel they've been injured as well."

Kurt looked back and forth between the two women trying to figure out if their body language matched their words. The doctor had her hands in her lab coat pockets and a mask of patience on her face. Her body's posture was purely professional. Carole had on her worried mom face. He wasn't sure if he could believe that she was still his mom, but she hadn't lied to him yet and he knew he could trust her in medical situations like this. Everything hurt like hell and he was barely holding it together. If things didn't work out for him parent-wise, at least he'd be in better shape to live back on the streets if his injuries were treated. Then once Blaine was better, they could find a way out of this shithole town. "I'll consent only to a regular exam and only on two conditions. One, Carole stays with me at all times and if she can't, then I want Burt here. Two..." Kurt tugged at the strings that tied the medical gown in the back. He pulled the garment off his body and balled it up so that it covered his private bits. "I'm the one who decides when my clothes come off and who can touch me. I'm going to at least get some Advil or Tylenol out of this, right? 'Cause I swear I heard my hamstring rip in two."

"I'm fairly certain we'll be putting you on more than Advil. You'll get the good stuff, Kurt."

Kurt kept his hands over his parts as he answered with a huff of resigned annoyance. "Fine. You may proceed."

* * * * * * *

Kurt let the doctor and other medical staff do their scans, draw his blood, collect his pee, and poke and prod him till he was cursing from the pain. An IV was inserted into his left hand and ice packs applied to his thigh, ribs, shoulder, elbow, wrist, and other hand. And when they were done with that, they wrapped him back up with ACE bandages, a cast, and slings. 

Despite the pain, Kurt was pleased that he'd achieved another victory. After his last visit to the clinic, the staff was wary of him. They kept his privates covered at all times and made certain he was aware of the details of every procedure and test. Even when he was asked to turn over in order for the doctor to examine his thigh, a folded up gown was draped over his butt. Only when they collected his pee was he fully naked and then it was in the presence of Carole and no one else. 

Throughout it all, Kurt refused to wear a medical gown. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that waking up and finding himself completely naked in one had been traumatic. He didn't want to feel anyone taking off the skimpy garment either. He'd had enough of that the first time. No matter how little say he had in what they did to his body, it was still his, not theirs. And he would control when he was naked. With everything being done to him and his limited mobility when it came to releasing his bladder, it was mentally and physically easier if he was naked all the time. It was his choice and he refused to let them take it from him.

The only thing he consented to was a blanket which disappointed his high as a kite boyfriend laying in the next bed over. At least someone appreciated his dick. He wished he'd gotten those drugs. Blaine seemed to have wanted to go pantless as well and when he shifted just right, the view was nice. Certainly better than the magazines he couldn't turn the pages of.

His own bits were currently exposed, having barely managed to pee into the urinal tied to his bed. With both arms in slings, his left hand tethered to an IV and the right in a cast, he didn't have it in him to try and pull the blanket across himself. Blaine was certainly thrilled at the show. He gave him a shimmy and a wink before closing his eyes wishing the room's lights weren't on. 

As he was dozing off, he thought he heard Finn grumbling about his and Blaine's nudity. Their dad quickly quashed the complaints, reminding Finn that he too had done crazy things when he'd been on pain killers and muscle relaxers. Finn's dad. Not his. The time when he had a dad was over. He had to remember that. Fuck he was tired. The pills they'd given him to help him sleep were kicking in. Or maybe he was just exhausted from the events of the day. He felt gentle hands tucking a blanket over his shoulders and a soft voice telling him to go back to sleep. He was going to miss that.

* * * * * * *

Kurt glared at the person lumbering into his room. "What is it, Finn? I don't want to fight with you anymore. You won, okay? Once I'm out of here you never have to see me again."

"What? Dude. No. I wanted to see how you were doing."

"No, you didn't."

"I did. Mom went to get coffee. She asked me to see if you needed help eating."

Kurt stared at the tray of food the orderly had brought in earlier. The guy had been in and out in a flash, depositing the trays on the bedside tables, and complaining under his breath about getting stuck with Naked Guy. Blaine hadn't been aware of it, still blissfully asleep on the really, really good pain medications. Kurt grudgingly admitted to himself that he was hungry and not being able to reach his food had become increasingly frustrating. He knew that Carole telling Finn she couldn't feed him herself was a set up, but he gave in anyway. Hospital food sucked enough when it was warm and his was getting colder by the minute. "I could use some help opening the containers."

"No, problem, Dude." Finn pried off the lids to the bowl of soup and cup of fruit filled Jell-O. Maybe Kurt would give him the Jell-O if he wasn't too hungry. He opened the packet of crackers next. That seemed to upset Kurt, so he stopped opening things.

Kurt sighed at the opened and partially crushed cracker pack. He had been planning on saving those for later. He wasn't sure what food he'd be allowed to take from the Hummels, so it was best to start hoarding what he could. Of course, now that the containers were open, he didn't know how he was actually going to manage eating. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" Maybe if he stared at the soup hard enough it would levitate to his mouth.

"How come both of your arms are in slings? Only one was before."

"Old elbow injury on the left. Re-hurt everything on the right."

"All that just from taking your stuff upstairs?"

"I had to lift Blaine too. Surely your parents explained this." 

"They said you got hurt, but I didn't understand why."

God, humans were stupid. "Because hauling a person up a flight of stairs with a busted shoulder, a torn hamstring, and broken ribs isn't a good thing. It nearly killed Blaine too. They had to put new casts on his leg and wrist and they're watching for nerve damage to his tail. Just forget it, okay? It doesn't matter anymore."

"How'd you'd hurt your elbow?"

"I got slammed into a wall when some guys were beating the shit out of me behind the grocery store. It never healed right."

"Oh, I thought maybe it was a football injury. I hurt my elbow in a tackle once."

"No, my football injuries are just these couple of scars." Kurt pointed to three faint lines etched into his abs and another set on his upper hip. He was still naked except for the blanket covering his private bits and legs. He was tempted to start refusing it given how hard it was to pull back up after peeing. And he always had to pee. Stupid IV. 

"You played football?"

"I was the kicker."

"The kicker doesn't get tackled."

"They do at the Reformatory."

"Mom and Dad said it was really bad in there."

Kurt huffed out a humorless laugh. "That's putting it mildly."

"They said they do things to the older kids, but I didn't understand what that meant."

"Think about it." He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I've tried." Finn hated it when people treated him like he was stupid. Why couldn't they just give him the answers when he asked? He would know things if people just said what they meant the first time. 

"What do you think creepy men like to do to those they have power over?"

"Make bad laws?"

"Aside from that. You never saw a prison movie? Never watched an episode of Prison Break or Law & Order?"

"Not really my thing, Dude."

"The guards watch you in the showers, Finn. They watch and they get off while watching you. And some of them, they touch you and make you touch them or other people. And if the Commandant finds out you're gay? He fucks you from behind and makes you cum while he's recharging, just so he can fuck you again and then turn you around, stick his dick in your mouth and force you to suck off his cum and the shit that was in your ass. Do you get it now, Finn? That's what life was like in-between the fighting and getting slammed into walls and the piss in your food if you ticked off the wrong person. Why do you think I ran away? Why do you think I'm terrified of being sent back? I didn't ask to be taken in by your parents. It was just nice not having to eat leftovers people tossed and being scared all the damn time for a little while." Kurt turned his head away and closed his eyes. He didn't know if was the pain killers making him say all of this or his frustration over the whole mess. He was shaking with exhaustion and the knowledge that all too soon, his life was going to suck just as much as it had before. He'd never see Finn again, so what could it hurt. "I already told you, you won. You'll never have to see the stupid weird fur kid again and you can have Burt and Carole all to yourself. Once I'm out of here, I'll grab my and Blaine's stuff and go."

Finn put his head in his hands and thought hard about what Kurt had said. He hadn't known any of this. Or maybe his mom and dad had tried to tell him, but they never said it like that. It wasn't right what had happened to Kurt. He was pretty sure he got now why his parents had taken him and Blaine in. He opened his eyes and looked at him. The guy's injuries looked as painful as the ones he got playing football and horsing around with his friends. "Where would you live if you didn't stay at my house?" 

"There's a condemned house out by the truck stop. If I trade in enough favors with these girls I know, the Skanks, I may be able to get a spot to crash without too much trouble. Doctor Jones will give me condoms so I won't get chlamydia again."

"Why would you need condoms?"

"What do you think gets traded most, Finn? Drugs and sex. I haven't smoked pot since the Reformatory and I don't do hard drugs. Figure it out."

"Why would you do those things?"

"Because I don't have a choice. Because scouring dumpsters and garbage cans and doing odd jobs for senile old women who pay you in brownies and embarrassing hats only gets you so far. You think I want to be touched or touch other people? God, I never want to be touched by a stranger again." Kurt turned back to Finn, wanting to see if any of what he was saying was sinking in. "Why do you I think I took your parents up on their offer? It was nice getting off the streets. It was nice being warm, having a home again, and people who gave a shit about me. But you ruined that. You proved you're the big bully. Congratulations. Can you leave now? I want to go stare some more at the food I can't reach."

Finn didn't want to leave. He needed to make things better for Kurt like his parents were doing. "I can help you. Feed you, I mean. Mom said I should feed you."

"You don't have to."

"It's not a problem. That's what brothers do."

Kurt wasn't sure what was going through Finn's head; his goofy grin could mean anything. He seemed harmless at this particular moment though. And his stomach was pissed at the fact that it hadn't been fed recently. The two protein bars he'd eaten only god knew how long ago, had hardly been a proper meal. "Fine. I could probably keep down the soup." Kurt felt like a toddler, but tried to be patient as Finn fumbled with bringing spoonfuls of soup to his mouth. Eventually, Finn figured out that bringing the bowl closer to him meant less dripping. Even though Finn tried to wipe the soup off his chest and chin with napkins, he was going to need a sponge bath after this. But at least half of the broth and mystery meat chunks had made it into his mouth, which was better than none. He ate the cracker bits too and sipped at the cup of water Finn held to his lips. He looked at the remains of his meal tray. "Thanks. Um...you can have the Jell-O. I'm full. Just leave the sandwich. I'll have it later."

"Cool, thanks, Dude!"

"No problem."

"Should I feed Blaine too?"

Kurt looked over and smiled at his boyfriend, snoring and drooling into the blankets tucked around him. "No, he's still asleep. When he wakes up, I'll try to track someone down to help him."

Finn was glad he could help his brother. Kurt didn't seem quite as mad at him as before, but he still felt he should apologize. It was the right thing to do. "I'm sorry for what happened to you at the Reformatory and when I had the party. I didn't know."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. "I tried to tell you." 

"I thought you were exaggerating and making things up."

"My worst nightmares wish I'd made that shit up." Kurt closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to say next in a way that Finn would understand. "You're in college. Take an intro to political science or hybrid studies class. Read a history book not written by white humans. Watch a non-conservative news show. Or just open your eyes and look around at how differently hybrids are treated compared to humans. Believe the stories you hear because there's a thousand more just like them. Educate yourself."

Finn wasn't sure about the reading part because he had a lot of reading to do already and a paper to write that was due Monday, which he should probably get started on. He could watch the news though and talk more to Kurt and his buddy Puck. He liked the idea of having a little brother too. "I know we fight a lot, Kurt, but I don't want you to leave. It's not right what happened to you and I'm sorry that I forced you and Blaine to stay in the upstairs bedroom. I didn't know you'd get hurt. Mom and Dad said you're cool when you're not angry at me. Maybe I could help you get a better score on Lego Batman or we could play football sometime when you're better."

Finn was trying. Kurt knew he was trying. He couldn't trust him, but he could give him credit for that much. He'd talk to Burt and Carole later and make certain it was okay that he stay their son. Until then, he could meet Finn half way. "Thank you. If you promise not to hog the milk and cereal, I promise not to be naked so much."

"Oh, Dad explained that to me. It's all cool. I'll just think of the house as a locker room until you and Blaine are feeling better and have use of your hands again. I mean, it's not like I don't see guy junk all the time anyway at college. You weren't doing it on purpose."

Kurt laughed at that. "Yes, I was. Sometimes. I'll try to be better."

"Cool. You sure I can have your Jell-O? I can feed it to you if you want it."

"You can eat it. The meds they're pumping into me are making me nauseous."

Finn tucked into the cup of Jell-O. It was the best way to eat fruit and green was his favorite flavor. "Oh, that sucks, Dude. At least they didn't give you Boost. When I got a concussion in high school and was in the hospital, they made me drink it. It tasted like rotted fish."

This was brand new information. "Wait, it's not just me? Humans think it tastes like fish too?"

"Oh, yeah, Dude. That's like the worst stuff ever!" 

Carole stood at the door to Kurt and Blaine's room, just out of sight of all three boys. She was happy that her sons had found a common ground. Best of all, she had her new son back. Already Kurt's face was more relaxed and animated. His shoulder was definitely going to pay the price as he gestured wildly about the horrors of embarrassing, "bare your ass" and "always riding up to expose your dick and balls" too-thin medical gowns, but for now, she'd let him enjoy the rush of endorphins and freedom to rant to a captivated and agreeable audience. A few minutes later Burt joined her in watching the exchange, handing her a cup of coffee, and putting his arm around her. They were a family once again.


	13. Author's Notes Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my dear readers about what's been happening the last 2 weeks. This is a temporary placeholder only and will be taken down once the new chapter is ready to go.

Empty Nest started off as just this little thing I was going to write. The idea had been kicking around in my head for a year. There's a stray cat that's taken shelter under our front porch for years and runs whenever he sees us. When my son went off to university, I started thinking about what if the cat was really homeless, hybrid Kurt? And in October of 2017, I finally started to write what was going to be a ficlette and nothing more. As of late January 2018, the verse had grown to two fics, a series of Klaine Advent one shots, 98,442 words, and was/is still going. 

When I reached chapter 12 of Rebuilding the Nest, I felt the time had finally come for me to revise the verse, especially Empty Nest, correct any errors I'd missed before, and clean up the time line inconsistencies. When I first started writing, I had no clear cut idea of how hybrids had come about or what they were like. I was just going with the usual trope flow. As chapters went on, I fell more and more back on my science fiction writing roots and established them as a single, dually evolved race. That was my biggest change to Empty Nest and reason for the revision.

I've decided to leave the original Empty Nest up and post Empty Nest Revised as a separate fic so that those who wish can compare and also to leave it up as one of those "Hey, I wrote this and it didn't complete suck" mementos. :) 

Revisions have also been made to all of the Rebuilding the Nest chapters as well, though those aren't posted separately. Instead, the changes have been made to the original fic. The changes are minor and mostly include grammatical, spelling, continuity glitches, and other time line fixes.

A time line has been posted as well.

And now, let the new writing begin!

I hope you enjoy. :)


	14. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine get visitors during their latest stay at the clinic. (Hopefully not as boring at it sounds.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: for mentions of suicide in a completely not-attempted way. Thanks to all who waited for this chapter. It sets up things for those that follow. The next chapter should be a little more lively and come quicker now that the revisions to the entire verse have been made.

Kurt awoke to the feeling of his left arm being jostled. The light peeking through the closed window blinds told him it was only early evening. The steady glow and rhythmic beeping from his and Blaine's monitors was reassuring even though where they were wasn't.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up, Sweetie. I'm just checking your stats and swapping out your IV."

"What day is it?"

"Still Saturday."

Kurt tried to rub his eyes, but couldn't make either of his arms do his bidding. It was as if a weight was holding them down. He tried to blink away the sleep generated crustiness. "Which one?"

Carole wrote down Kurt's numbers on the chart. Medically, he was stable. Mentally, the poor kid had a long way to go. Last night had proven it. There was only so much a person could take and he had been pushed beyond his limits. She schooled her face so that her grief didn't show. Kurt needed a nurse and an encouraging mother right now, not a worried one. "Same one. You've only been asleep for a couple of hours. You and Finn got into quite the heated discussion about the atrocities of hospitals and your body paid the price. The doctor had to give you the good stuff. Do you remember?" 

"I remember seeing you laughing through the door's window."

"Can you blame us? Your dad and I were cracking up."

Kurt looked down at the blanket covering his body. His tail was twitching beneath it and betraying the swirling emotions he was trying to hide. "My dad? So you're still my..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the question. 

Carole put down the chart and placed a gentle hand his uninjured shoulder. "We're still your parents if you want us to be, Kurt. I know you haven't been with us long, but we love you and would really like you to stay. You're our son. We're always going to take care of Blaine too, so don't worry about him."

"Even after what happened?"

"That wasn't your fault. I am so sorry that you felt you had to leave."

"It was too much. We weren't safe."

"I know and again, I'm sorry. We're working on improving that for you. It seems like you and Finn worked things out though? Maybe?"

"I think so. He said he was sorry and didn't understand before."

"I'm not making excuses for him, but Finn has a good heart. It just takes him awhile to get things sometimes."

"That's what he said. That he didn't know we'd get hurt or understand why I don't like being locked up. I had to spell it out for him." Kurt couldn't help from shuddering. He hated remembering that place and the knowledge that countless people knew the details of what had happened to him. He debated whether or not to tell Carole that while he may have called a truce with Finn and found some common ground, he couldn't bring himself to trust him. With an internal sigh, he decided it was best to keep the information to himself. He needed parents more than he needed a brother. "Can I still call you 'Mom'?"

"I'd really like that."

"Me too." He gave her a small smile followed by a smirk. "I heard that good moms only pretend to hook up IVs and sneak their kids cheeseburgers and fries when they're in the hospital."

Carole laughed with her son, unhooked the sling from his right arm, and placed the blood pressure cuff around it. "Got that one from your brother did you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Carole was quiet for a few minutes as she took Kurt's pressure. It was on the high end of normal. Not alarmingly so, but it would have to be watched. "How about a compromise? You keep the IV for now, and I'll have your dad round us up some food."

"I'd like no cheese and extra pickles, please."

"I can see that someone's awake." Carole pulled back the curtain that separated the boys' beds and picked up Blaine's chart to begin his vital check and replace his IV. Yesterday had been rough on both kids. "How are you feeling, Honey?"

"Better, thank you. I'm tired of the drugs making me so sleepy. Are we going to be here as long as last time?"

Carole attached the blood pressure cuff to Blaine's arm and began to pump it up. "I shouldn't think so. They just wanted you here for standard observation given your injuries."

Blaine waited until the procedure was done before asking his next question. "How many days and injuries this time?"

A wonderful idea suddenly flowed through Kurt's mind. "Wait, don't answer him until we have our BINGO cards and I've placed my bet." 

"You cheat, Kurt. You look at our medical charts and then lie."

Kurt gave his boyfriend a smirk. "You never said old injuries didn't count." 

Carole laughed at her boys and swapped out Blaine's IV bag for a fresh one. "Do you really have BINGO cards?"

"A med student helped us make them this morning. He was bored and thought it was funny. He said he wished all of his patients were this relaxed about their injuries. They're on Kurt's bedside table."

Carole finished checking Blaine's vitals and monitoring equipment before finding the cards and picking up both medical charts. "Do each of you want a pen or do you want me to fill them out for you?"

Kurt glared at his bandages. "They've got my arms wrapped so tight, I don't think I could move enough to write if I wanted to. You can fill it out for me and prove to Blaine I didn't cheat this time."

"The immobilization is only temporary so you can heal, Kurt." Carole moved the chair closer to Kurt's bed so he could have the card in his lap and at least look at it.

Blaine took his card and the pen being handed to him and looked towards Carole and Kurt for the game to begin. He was so going to win this. 

Carole skimmed the charts, moving past the things the boys would probably have found boring such as blood pressure, temperature, and oxygen levels. "Broken rib."

"Re-broke or one we haven't before? I have both on my card."

"Then you would get two squares, Kurt."

Kurt felt his ears flatten against his head. "I knew it! So much for ribs being stronger after they've healed." 

"You've been malnourished for a long time and never received proper care until you came to stay with us. It makes it harder for your body to heal itself."

"And why I keep being trapped here for days and hooked up to the evil IV?"

"You got it in one, Honey. I'm sorry."

Kurt shrugged the matter off, or tried to. Damn, he really was wrapped up like a mummy this time. Thank goodness the drugs were allowing him to not really care right now. "Blaine, what did you get?"

Blaine took a closer look at his card. "I don't have that spot. Do I have any, Carole?"

"Not this time, Sweetie."

"Thank goodness. No breathing exercises for me!"

"Rub it in, why don't you? If he doesn't have broken ribs, then how come he's on the better drugs and I'm not?"

"You are on the better drugs."

"I meant yesterday." Kurt shook his head trying to get past the confusion clouding it up. "I think I mean yesterday."

In all of her years of being a nurse, Carole hating giving her patients bad news. It hurt worse when the person was a member of her family. "He re-injured the base of his tail and they had to reset his leg. You didn't."

"So much for getting to mark those spots. Sorry, Blaine. I get shoulder injury, right, Mom?"

"Yes, but so did Blaine."

Blaine was elated for a minute, thinking he was going to win this time, until he realized what Carole had told him about the other injury. "Am I going to going to lose the use of my tail?"

"I wish I knew. They're monitoring you closely for nerve damage."

"Well, that sucks."

Kurt stared at his boyfriend's forlorn face. "I wish I could hug you." 

"Me too. Your hugs make everything better."

Carole tried to lighten the mood. This was not a fun game anymore. "How about we not wait for Burt to get back from dropping Finn off at home and I go get you boys your food?"

Kurt couldn't give his boyfriend the hug he needed, but he did know of other ways to cheer him up. "No, keep going. Blaine likes it when I win." He winked and it elicited the blush he'd hoped for. 

"If you're sure?" Carole waited until she received agreement from both kids before continuing. "Broke a new bone. Kurt, that would be your fourth finger. Blaine, your breaks just needed new casts and that one resetting."

"I'm almost at BINGO. Told you I was going to win, Blaine!"

"Pulled muscles in your back. Both of you."

"My card sucks. I don't have that spot."

"Neither do I, Blaine. It explains the heating pad."

"The heating pad is so much better than the ice packs."

It wasn't possible for Kurt to agree more with his boyfriend. "I know, right?"

"Sprained ankle. Kurt, that's you too, Honey."

Well that was brand new information. "I did?"

"It's mild. You really didn't know?"

"No. When they ice me, everything is cold and it's all I can do not to wet the bed. IVs, ice packs, and being forced to drink liquids all day are not a good combination. And then I'm numb and I don't like looking when they're wrapping me back up in ACE bandages."

Carole didn't have to ask why and put a comforting hand on her son's bed. For all his joking around and stubbornness, she knew being here was taking a toll on him. When not high on the pain medication and muscle relaxant, his nudity was a choice born out of desperation to help him cope with being touched, confined to a hospital bed, and constrained by medical devices and wrappings. When it all got to be too much, he would kick off his blankets, unable to release his frustration in any other way. He paid a price for it though and all too often would try to hide the tears that pooled in his eyes as he laid there, naked and helpless. As his mom, she was doing everything she could to help him through it. "Kurt? Do you want help marking your card or do you want to stop?" 

Kurt smiled at his mom, wishing he hadn't made her sad. "You can mark it. It's in the 'I' column. Blaine, do you have it on your card?"

"I have it! Oh, wait, no that says I sprained something else."

"What?"

Blaine put on his best innocent smile. "Nothing important. What's next?"

"What does it say?"

"I'm not saying it in front of Carole, Kurt. It wouldn't be polite." Blaine turned his card over. 

Kurt leaned his body as far as he could trying to see what his boyfriend was hiding. "Okay, now I'm really curious."

Knowing Kurt wouldn't let up, Blaine caved. "Either I must have been really high or the med student was playing a joke."

It was just as he suspected. "They all have dick on them, don't they?"

"Not all of them. Just most."

"Mine too."

"Then how do you almost have BINGO?"

Kurt didn't hold back his smug grin. "Because your blanket slipped and your medical gown has ridden up. I got to mark off 'See Blaine's dick' a few times. I told you I would win."

Blaine looked at his lap and exposed privates. It explained the slight chill he'd been feeling. He was thrilled he'd made his boyfriend happy, but he wanted to win too. "Kurt, it's not fair. Kick off your blanket so I can see your dick."

Blaine had the best ideas. "Okay!" Luckily, his right leg didn't seem to be injured and he was able to get the blankets down past his knees without too much trouble. He was feeling a bit hot anyway. His parents were always putting extra blankets on him for some reason. 

"And that's how I know your drugs are kicking in. Enjoy them while they last, boys." Carole put the charts back in their holders. "I'll leave you two to your mutual admiration and scrounge you up some better food. Kurt, do you need to go to the bathroom before I do?"

"No, I'm good for now."

"Blaine?"

"I don't need to watch TV. I like looking at Kurt's body."

"I'll take that as a no. Have fun, you two." With a laugh, Carole drew Kurt's curtain closed enough to block the view of their antics from the door's window and left the room. The BINGO cards their kids had were completely blank minus a few scrawled lines. Burt was going to get a good laugh out of this.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Bud, are you busy? Can I talk to you and Blaine for a minute?"

Kurt pointed his head to both of his encased arms in turn and the ice packs covering half of his body. The elderly hybrid nurse that had put them on him had thrown a gown over his privates complaining that when he'd volunteered to work here, it hadn't included signing up to deal with crude teenagers who lacked manners and decency. He hated the man for taking away his autonomy, but at least his dad got a short reprieve from his nudity, so there was that. "I'm very busy with not being able to move."

"I didn't know if you and Blaine were in one of your book or fashion discussions." Burt was relieved when he'd managed to get that out better than it had sounded in his head while not letting on that he knew about the BINGO cards they were playing with last night. He loved his boys, but there were things a parent didn't need to see and hear firsthand.

"Nope. Just bored wishing we had a TV and complaining that they stopped the good drugs. Is anything wrong?"

Burt sighed. Of course the kid would think something was wrong. "No, Son. Miss Pillsbury called me to confirm your appointments for tomorrow and I told her that might not be possible. She asked if she could drop by today and see you here. You boys would have your individual sessions and privacy. I'd take you out in a wheelchair. Let you see more than this room for a little while. Would you be up for that?"

Blaine gave Kurt's dad a sad but grateful smile. "I wouldn't mind, Burt. After what happened, I could use it. That's nice that she offered."

"I'll let her know, Blaine. How about you, Bud? I know it's not an easy thing to do, talking about your feelings and experiences and all."

Kurt closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before replying, stalling and needing to restart as he fumbled on his words. "It's not. I don't like it, but I know I need it. Carole...Mom and Blaine said I was really out of it. I don't remember much."

"You were pretty messed up, Kid. Broke my heart."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry about. Wasn't your fault. What you've been through, most wouldn't be able to handle it."

Kurt tried to shrug the matter off, but as his shoulders couldn't move, he had to settle for flicking his tail back and forth as it laid against his leg on the bed. "There were a lot of us at the Reformatory. We didn't have a choice but to handle it." Kurt saw the look of dejection on his dad's face and tried to think of a way to make it less so. "Thank you for everything you've done. It's helped."

"We're tryin', Son."

"I know. Miss Pillsbury can come. I'll try to get better." Kurt stared at the bit of medical gown covering his crotch. The thin fabric had absorbed some of the ice packs' moisture and become see through. His dick was on display as much as it would have been without it, only now it was wet and cold. "I'm going to need my blanket or some clothes. It's not fair to her to see me like this. She didn't do anything to me." The sigh he let out made him wrinkle his nose. "I should probably brush my teeth too. If you could help me?"

Blaine frowned at his current outfit. Kurt was right about the gowns they forced patients to wear. They left little to the imagination. "If it's not too much trouble, I would like some pants or underwear and a toothbrush too, please."

Burt couldn't say he wasn't relieved to hear the boys say they wanted pants before he had to ask if of them. "Got your clothes and toiletries tucked away in a bag in the cabinet. Want to go to the bathroom first? Get that out of the way and then get dressed and a bit more presentable? I can put your ice packs back on afterwards."

Kurt hated this part, but he didn't have much of a choice. "That's fine."

"For me too. Thank you, Burt."

Burt retrieved two pairs of gloves and a box of wipes from the storage cabinet. How his wife had done this day in and day out and then come home to an infant son who needed the same and her full attention, he didn't know. But as he'd told Kurt numerous times now, when they're your kid, you'd do anything for them. 

* * * * * * *

"I heard you had a few problems recently. Do you want to talk about them?"

"Only a few? That's an understatement." Kurt took in his therapist's appearance as she sat primly in his room's only chair. It was simple and neat as before - a pastel green pencil skirt, cream sweater, and a matching beret with a floral embroidery trim. When he had money again, he was going to invest in more hats. 

"Kurt, you didn't quite answer my question."

Kurt wished he'd asked his dad to put the blanket back on him after he'd gotten dressed. The slings, cast, and bandages didn't hide all of the scars on his chest. A medical gown was out of the question, but a blanket would have given him a layer of mental protection. At least he had his underwear and pants. They were soft and warm; the only comfort he could have in this moment. "Shit happens. It always happens. I should have been more prepared. It's my fault we were trapped in that room."

"But it wasn't."

Miss Pillsbury was nice, but given where this therapy session was taking place, it was obvious that she was also wrong. He rolled his eyes and flattened his ears against his head; his frustration being echoed by his flicking tail as well. "I was stupid for feeling like I was completely safe at the Hummels' and got too complacent. I didn't even have my phone on me or an escape plan. Blaine's been hurt twice now because of me."

"Neither of those was your fault, Kurt."

"Of course it was! I knew better. I should have done more - at the K-Mart and back home. He's here because I fucked up."

"It really isn't your fault."

Kurt wished he could shrug. He missed shrugging. It was one of his favorite gestures. "That's what Blaine said too. Feels like it is though."

Emma smoothed down her skirt and moved on. This was only her second session with Kurt and being able to get a clearer picture of his living situation would enable her to provide him with better approaches towards healing. "Do your parents make you feel unsafe?"

"No. They're great! It's their son, Finn. I can't trust him. Not after what he did. I'm assuming Blaine told you all the details."

"He did, but I'd like to hear them from you. Each of us perceives things differently."

Kurt was annoyed with having to answer such an obvious question. He'd been badgered by the same damn one by every doctor and scan technician here. His dad would have told her what happened as well when she'd called about the appointment. "What's there to perceive? We got locked away in a room with no way to escape while some asshole made racist remarks and no one told him to shut the hell up. It was like being back at the Reformatory only this time with better clothes and being forced to pee into water bottles."

"Is it safe to assume you had flashbacks?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed into a glare. He was pissed and embarrassed about what he was being forced to admit. "There was no safe about it and of course I did. I had a bunch."

"Did you try that technique we talked about?"

"Yeah. It worked a little. Didn't stop anything from sucking though. Didn't stop us from getting hurt or Finn having that stupid party."

"What happened with Finn? Would you like him to come in and we can talk it out together?"

"He's back at the house cleaning everything up. Or that's what Mom said his punishment was. I think he's also in trouble for not starting his term paper yet." Kurt looked towards the room's door, half wishing his dad would come back with Blaine. Instead he only saw Doctor Carl start to walk past and pause when he noticed who was in the room before moving on. God, did everybody know his business in this fucking place?

"Were you able to express your feelings with him at all?"

At this, Kurt couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Oh, I expressed them alright. He claims he didn't understand before. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't and really is that much of a clueless idiot. He said he was sorry. I'll never be able to trust or forgive him." Kurt noticed that the therapist taking notes and decided to give her something else to write down. If it came back to bite him in the ass, then he'd know for certain that her promise of complete confidentially was a lie. "Burt and Carole insisted that I was still their son. I really don't want to lose that, so if I have to play nice with Finn, I will. To a point." 

"That's understandable. Trusting people can be hard and this living situation is still very new to you. The offer of a family session is still open."

"Dad's driving him back to school today once mom gets off work."

"What about a session with your parents?"

"What would be the use? They already know everything. Or most things. Mom's been there for the majority of my exams and I assume she told Dad. They're really careful around me when they have to help me out with...bathroom things and helping me get dressed. I can trust them not to..." Kurt shifted his gaze from his lap to the room's window. Rain was coming down harder than it had been before. "Do I really have to talk about the crap that happened to me right now? Being here is traumatic enough."

"In therapy?"

"No, here, the clinic. Having no control over what they do to me is like being back at the Reformatory."

Emma jotted the information down on her pad before continuing. Kurt having people he could trust would go a long way towards his recovery. His feelings towards his medical treatment and connecting them to his past abuse along with Doctor Jones' concerns couldn't be ignored. However there was only so much that could be accomplished in a session. "Alright, but I feel it would be beneficial if you could at some point. Perhaps start by writing it down in a journal." The remark was answered by a huff of annoyance and pointed glare at his bound arms and hands. She wished she'd remembered to bring her pamphlets with her. There were a few that would apply to his current situation. Without them, she had to press on verbally. "This week, I'd like you to try and find something positive you can focus on. Something you can work towards and look forward to in the future."

Kurt's first impulse was to roll his eyes at how stupid humans were. But his therapist was a hybrid who had been hurt by the same creep and same system that had hurt him. She should know better. He settled on tilting his head, raising his ears, and stretching out his torso in order to draw attention to his scars. "I don't have a future."

Emma quickly schooled her features at the demonstration. Kurt's injuries were extensive and unfortunately not unique to some of the clients she saw. All of them though, had worn more clothing to cover them up. Kurt's answer was also familiar and one she was equipped to handle smoothly. "I know it doesn't feel that way right now, but I think you do. What you have to overcome may feel insurmountable, but a step towards getting there is to focus on something positive, something you can look forward to. It doesn't have to be a big thing. It could be something simple such as learning a new language, creating a piece of art, or finishing a book you were reading. You said before that you liked going to the library."

"I used to read all the time. Blaine and I lost most of our books and magazines when his place got taken over. And in our condition, we can't exactly sneak into the library."

"Perhaps your parents could check out some books for you. Or do they have a computer you could use to read books online?"

For the first time with Miss Pillsbury, Kurt found himself smiling and a bit hopeful. "I never thought about them going to the library for me. I was trying to learning French before the attack. I'm allowed to use the laptop, but it's hard to with my arm in a sling and the broken fingers. Now I have both arms confined and more breaks." He focused on his socks. They were plain black cotton, but they were made for hybrid physiology and warm. It was a protective layer he appreciated having to distract himself with as he shared a confession. "I know I could have figured out a way to use it though, but I've been lazy and just watching bad TV with Blaine." And having lots of sex, but she didn't need to know that. "I like the book idea. I think I could do that. And when I'm better, I could go back to work at the tire shop. Burt's a good dad and a fair boss. It was nice to make money and buy what I needed."

"Don't your parents provide for you?"

"They do, but I don't like asking. They said the clinic was free, but I don't believe them. Mom's been putting in a lot of hours here and I know they pay Sam, our home health aid, to come over. It's not fair and I don't like being dependent on them for everything."

"You're used to being independent and taking care of yourself. Has it been a huge struggle for you to adapt to or do you feel you're able to manage?"

Kurt nodded his head at the first question. "I really have tried to adjust, but you never know when everything is going to change. Finn locking us up reminded me that I can't count on anyone or anything being permanent. Good things don't last. Parents don't last. I love Blaine, but he could leave too or get hurt worse and I lose him like I lost my mom. It's just the way the world is for me."

"Do you want to talk more about that?"

"No. I just...things happen. I have to remember that and be more careful. I'll do your book idea."

"I'm glad you liked it. Every little step forward is a step in the right direction." 

"My dad says that too."

Emma looked at her watch and then down at her notepad, trying to be discreet about it. "Our time is almost up and I need to cover just one more thing with you. Have you been taking your medication?"

Kurt sighed with relief. Finally an easy question. He was emotionally drained and glad the session would be over soon. "Yes."

"Do you feel it's working? What you're on takes a while to build up in your system."

"I know. Mom explained it to me. It feels like it's working a little, but I don't know. Maybe I need a higher dose or to give it more time."

"Perhaps you could talk it over with one of the doctors while you're here?"

Kurt took a fortifying breath. He hated his doctors, but perhaps their overly cautious reaction to his blackout and continued nudity could be used to his advantage. His brain working better was greater than his need for pants. "Okay. I can do that."

"Thank you, Kurt. Is there anything else you need to say before I bring in your dad and Blaine?"

Kurt knew there was a lot of things he could talk about, should, if he was being honest with himself, but he wasn't ready to yet. "Not really." 

"I'll see you soon then. Take care, Kurt."

He watched as Miss Pillsbury left, carefully opening the door with her hand tucked into her sleeve so that her skin didn't make any direct contact. It took only a few minutes for the woman to return with his dad and boyfriend. 

It took far longer to move Blaine back on his bed and himself into the wheelchair. Even with their casts and wrappings, it was getting the IV's off their bedside hooks and onto the one attached to the wheelchair that caused the most problems. Who the hell thought the concept of having a needle stuck in your hand 24/7 was a good idea, he didn't know, but he sure would like to smack them. Blaine seemed to think so too. There was only so much even he could take in stride. 

He hated appearing weak in front of the therapist. It was bad enough that she saw his psychological wounds and the scars on head and chest when he'd stretched out in anger at her question. It was another to have to be helped just to get out of a bed. To not be able to stand for even a few minutes without pain or free his tail when it got caught in the railing. He wanted to go home where no one would look at him with pity. 

Eventually, he and Blaine were settled and the supportive gazes they wanted to exchange were more forlorn than they were meant to be. 

"You okay, Son?"

"I'm fine, Dad." He knew his dad wasn't buying his answer, but as every time before, he didn't make a fuss about it. 

"How about I take you down to the cafeteria? They have coffee. It's not as good as those beans you convinced me to buy for the shop and house, but it's better than that crap they got at the donut shop."

"I love your bribes." He laughed with his dad and gave his boyfriend a parting wave with his head. Therapy was hard, but he knew he needed it. Just like he needed to get out of this room for awhile. 

* * * * * * *

Burt pushed the down button on the elevator and waited with his son for it to come. "Tina came by the shop and asked if you'd be up to a visitor."

"I'm not getting out today, am I?" Kurt glared at the old white tiles on the floor. More than one was cracked at the threshold of the closed metal doors. New clinic. Old building. Same old shit as before.

"I don't think so, Bud. The doctors are just being cautious."

Trying to strain against his bindings was useless. The slings and bandages they'd wrapped around his arms and torso might as well have been a straitjacket. He hated the unnecessary confinement and he hated that they thought he was suicidal when it was the farthest thing from the truth. "They think I'm going to do something stupid because of how I acted and can't remember everything. I heard Doctor Carl talking to Doctor Jones. Humans forget we have better hearing than they do. I'm not like that. I just got scared."

Burt adjusted his cap and tried not to let out a relieved and despondent sigh. There was no 'just' about it and both of them knew it. "I'm sorry, Kiddo. Wish I knew how to make this better for you."

Kurt waited until he and his dad were in the elevator and headed to the first floor before replying, glad that they were alone. He was grateful that he still got to call Burt his dad. "You've done a lot. And Miss Pillsbury isn't so bad. She had some good ideas." Wanting to talk about something aside from how much of his life sucked, he changed the subject to a lighter one. "You know what would really help though? Buy me a burger with the cup of coffee?"

Burt laughed at his son's shameless grin and pushed him off the elevator and down the hallway towards the cafeteria. "You got it. What should I tell Tina?"

"It's fine. Did she say when she wanted to stop by?"

"Tonight would be better for her, but she was open to other times."

Kurt tried for wry humor, unsure if he succeeded. "Tonight's good. I'm still in pants."

"For which the staff is grateful. You're not the only one who overhears things, Kid." Burt was glad Kurt laughed with him. 

After navigating a complicated series of turns that he'd become all to familiar with the last couple of months, he wheeled his kid into the windowless room and parked him at a table in a corner away from other diners. Like the rest of the hybrid clinic, it was white and clean. The paint on the walls new, but all of the fixtures from the aluminum and glass counters to the Formica topped tables and plastic chairs were mismatched castoffs and worn around the edges. He didn't recognize any of the medical staff eating their own meals, but they obviously knew who his son was by the glances they gave him which were followed by whispers. At least some looked chagrined when he glared at them. None of what had happened to Kurt was his fault and the boy was just trying to cope as best he could. They all were. 

"Let me get you that food. Don't tell your mom I'm eating it too. She thinks I only have salad when I'm here." 

"I don't tell Mom anything." Burgers two days in a row instead of gross soup, mushy white bread sandwiches, and cans of Boost? His lips were sealed. His parents were great providers. He hated that he had to be fed like a baby, but at least they were better at it than Finn. 

"That's why you're my favorite. Fries or onion rings?"

"Both?"

Burt patted his son on the back. The boy could have all the fries and onion rings in the world if that's what it took to keep his spirits up and from giving in completely. "You are so my kid, Bud. And don't worry, Blaine had his when you were having your therapy session."

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Son."

* * * * * * *

"Hi, Kurt! Is it okay if we come in?"

Kurt looked up at the sound of the door being knocked on and opened. Tina, he'd been expecting, but not another figure walking in behind her. "We?"

"Just me and my husband, Mike."

"Oh, sure." Kurt smiled nervously at the visitors, grateful for the two blankets his dad had tucked under his arms and around his body. He wish he'd done that for the therapy session. The layers were comforting. Not everyone needed to see every scar and injury. The ones on his head and arms were bad enough.

"Hi, I'm Blaine." Blaine tried to wave, but stopped when the IV needle in his hand started to hurt. His boyfriend was right, gestures were hard to stop, especially when you were told not to move. Still, he wanted to be polite towards Kurt's friend. She seemed genuinely nice and upbeat and he enjoyed the bold personality of her black and royal blue brocade and lace dress. "I love your outfit. It's very retro hybrid goth."

"Thank you, Kurt's Blaine! It's nice to finally meet you." Tina returned the wave. A younger her would have made a comment about how cute he was and that her friend had lucked out. She was more restrained now. Not by much, but given where they were, it wasn't exactly a proper setting to say more.

"You too. Kurt's told me only wonderful things."

With a grin, Tina hugged her husband's arm, gently urging him further into the room. "This is my Mike."

Mike gave only the briefest of 'hi's. His wife was the outgoing one not him, and he was fine with that.

Tina held up a large, green cellophane wrapped package. "I bought you a gift basket. It's from all of us at Millie & Marley's really. Just a few things we thought you could use. Honestly, most of it is stuff that isn't selling very well, but they did at least ask me and look at your order history, so it's not all castoffs." 

Kurt was glad that Blaine pointed to one of their bedside tables so his friend could set the gift down. He wished he could open it now. There was a box of cookies calling his name. "I lived on castoffs for nearly two years. I can make just about anything work." Given the uncomfortable silence that followed, it was apparently an odd thing to say, so he tried for a lighter note. "Thank you, Tina, and tell everyone there thank you too. It's nice wearing hybrid designed underwear again."

"You mean when you do."

"Shut up, Blaine!"

Tina bounced on her toes. She loved gossip. "No, don't. Please tell us!"

Blaine gave Kurt a flirty wink before turning back to his new friend. "Ask one of the staff about Naked Guy."

"Naked Guy? I can't wait!"

"If I could move, I'd throw something at you." Kurt glared without any malice behind it at his boyfriend and laughed with his friend.

The humorous moment passed and Tina took a better look at her friend's condition. There were so many bandages and wires and tubing. His boyfriend didn't seem to be fairing any better. Visiting people in the hospital was awkward. She never knew what to say and the smells were always weird and off-putting. "I'm sorry that I didn't visit you the last time you were here. I didn't know."

"It's okay. How could you?"

"I don't know. I still feel bad about it." Tina saw her friend eyeing the gift basket and it gave her an idea. "When you're feeling better, you could stop by Millie & Marley's sometime. Come and hang out. Some of the parents who work there are homeschooling their teenagers."

Kurt shrank in on himself and he looked anywhere but at Tina and her husband. "I don't know if I'd really fit in with normal kids."

For the hundredth time in the past few days, Blaine wished he could reach out and hug his boyfriend. "Kurt, you are normal. You fit in with me."

"That's different, Blaine. We were in the same situation when we met. Before then, you were all formal manners and prep school. I've seen you interact with people. You get along with everybody and everybody adores you." Kurt knew exactly what he was and how he appeared to people. Normal and like everyone else was as far from his wheelhouse as you could get.

Tina wasn't much older than her friend, but she couldn't help but put on her exasperated mom lecturing tone. It was an instinctual bad habit by now. "You really don't know what it's been like for the hybrid kids in public school, Kurt. It's been so bad the past year that even before the anti-discrimination protections were removed, many had already pulled their kids out. I obviously don't know everything that happened to you and it's not my place to, but you might have more in common than you realize with a few of them." Clearly what she'd said was wrong and Kurt was more closed off than before. She put a comforting hand on his leg and pulled it away quickly when he startled. 

Tina looked to her husband for help and tried again. "If you don't want to meet any of the kids that's fine. We could just talk and hang out on my lunch break or after work. It would give us a chance to catch up."

Mike took pity on his wife and tried to engage both her friend and her friend's boyfriend. "The kids and some of their parents have formed a choir if that interests either of you. And on Wednesdays and Fridays I teach them a few forms of dance."

Tina loved her husband and it wasn't just because of his incredible abs. "Mike's a great instructor. He's the choreographer at the community theatre and runs the dance school next door."

"They allow you to do that?"

Mike couldn't blame Kurt for his skepticism. "This is Lima. Not exactly a Mecca for dance instructors. A few of the die hard racists pulled their kids out, but most stuck around." 

Glad that Kurt didn't seem to be completely hating the change of topic, she provided another possible way to draw him into a visit. "If you don't like to dance, Mike has the best gossip. Have you ever heard of Bryan Ryan? Total diva."

Kurt's ears perked up at the familiar name and he could see that Blaine's had too. He would never give away his boyfriend's secret, so he settled on, "I love gossip!"

Blaine did too and would love to know more about his biological dad. More-so though, there were parts of his old life that he truly missed and longed to participate in again. "I love singing. I used to be in Dalton's show choir."

"Then you should come by." Mike gave the guy an encouraging smile. Personally, Kurt was a bit too intense for him. Blaine's enthusiasm was more welcoming.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his hospital bed. Sure, he liked gossip and Tina and Mike seemed nice, but he wasn't quite sold on the idea of being around a bunch of strangers. "I'll see what my parents' schedules are once Blaine's more mobile."

"The buildings are all wheelchair accessible, if that helps."

"It does, thank you, Tina." Blaine gave his boyfriend his most pleading look. "Come on, Kurt. It could be fun. I adore Burt and Carole, but I've been feeling cooped up. When we were homeless, we moved around more. Things sucked, but at least I got to see the sky every day."

"We'd be inside, Blaine."

"That's not the point and you know it, Kurt."

Kurt took several deep breaths before letting the last one out in a long sigh. He couldn't deny Blaine this. Miss Pillsbury's advice to find something positive to do and look forward to surely applied to him as well. "I know. Sorry. Okay. I'll ask. Do you have a number or email address I can reach you at, Tina?"

"Here." Tina started to hand Kurt a piece of paper with her info scrawled on it and then seeing the extent of his bandages, thought better of it, placing it on his bedside table near the gift basket instead. "I meant to give it to Burt last time I saw him, but then he said you were here and well..."

"I get it. Thank you." Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his bed again and glared at his IV bag. It was nearly empty.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not really. Sort of? Is my mom outside?"

Instantly, Tina was on alert and started heading for the door. "Want me to get her?"

"Yeah, if you could. Sorry."

"Kurt, you're in the hospital. You have nothing to be sorry about. I probably overstayed anyway."

Kurt tried his best to smile and reassure his friend, hoping she didn't pick up on the new smell like Blaine had. The guy was trying hard to school his features, but he had always been the more expressive of them. "No! You're fine. It's nice seeing you. It's just..."

"An embarrassing medical thing?" Tina felt bad for her friend. Being sick and stuck in a hospital sucked.

"Unfortunately. Sorry."

"I understand. I'll see you later, Kurt. Hope you feel better soon. You too, Blaine. It was nice meeting you." 

"Thank you. It was nice meeting you and Mike." When Tina and Mike left the room with friendly waves, Blaine gave his boyfriend a knowing look and whispered. "You have to pee, don't you?"

Kurt kicked at his blankets, trying to pull them off of himself with his right foot and verify his suspicions. "I think I already did."

Blaine had an easier time of pushing his blankets off. He grimaced at the sight and his lack of bladder control. "Me too. IVs are evil."

"So evil."


	15. The Shindig: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just another day at the clinic and things are finally starting to improve for Kurt and Blaine until they stumble upon something unexpected.

\-------------

Kurt stared at the loose, cotton knit, gray and blue pajama bottoms that his mom had put on him after the embarrassing loss of bladder control in front of Tina incident the night before. They were thick enough that even without underwear, the outline of his bits was barely noticeable. He wiggled his toes and the white socks they were encased in wiggled with them. "Blaine, am I giving in by wanting to wear pants?"

"I think you should do what makes you feel comfortable." Blaine gave only the briefest of glances at his own state of dress before returning his full attention to his boyfriend. He was back in his singular, white & blue diamond patterned, too thin hospital gown and nothing else. After the painful experience of having his IV line reinserted because he'd been using the hand too much, it was easier to go sans clothing from the waist down. Embarrassing and far too breezy, but his options were limited and it was what it would continue to be until he got well enough to be discharged.

"I hate being undressed by the staff and unable to move enough to go to the damn bathroom by myself." Kurt studied Blaine's clothing. The fabric of the gown had been pulled tight from Blaine's restless shifting and the light in the room was shining at just the right angle for him to see everything clearly. The show was nice, but he was glad he hadn't consented to the same. Still, he wished for more coverage than he presently had on.

"I know and I'm sorry. I wish it didn't have to be this way." Blaine would give anything to be able to walk over and crawl into bed with Kurt and hug him. 

"Being Naked Guy was empowering and kind of funny at first. Now it's just cold and embarrassing. I don't want to be exposed all the time, but I don't want to be put back in a medical gown either."

"You want your layers back."

"That's a great way of putting it. I miss my clothes, even the plaid flannel ones Dad gave me."

Blaine shared his boyfriend's laugh. Burt did have quite the extensive collection of flannel shirts that he had shared with Kurt. Some days, they even accidentally matched. Glad that he was helping, he asked a question. "Is it as bad having your clothes removed when Burt and Carole help you go to the bathroom or get ready for exams and procedures as it is when the nurses and techs do it?"

Kurt picked at the bandages and sling holding his left arm against his body, glad he still had use of right thumb and pointer finger. "No. It's weird, but I can trust them. I don't get triggered nearly as often when they do it."

"Then compromise. Naked Guy when they can't be here because the staff leaves you alone most of the time when you are. Layers Guy when your parents are around."

Kurt beamed at his boyfriend. Not for the first time he was glad he had taken a chance on him after that very wet and nude first encounter. "I like that. Love you."

Blaine grinned back. The fact that he was putting on an inadvertent peep show for his boyfriend was not lost on him. "I love you too, even if I won't get the pleasure of seeing your dick all time anymore."

"It is a sacrifice you'll have to make. However will you manage to stay with me?" Kurt lifted his hips, trying to strain the fabric of his pants so that he could return the pleasure his boyfriend was giving him. Now that he was in a better mood, his dick was too. 

"I have being home and lots of awkward sex because casts and bandages keep getting in the way to look forward to. For now, seeing you tent your pants will have to do."

"God, I wish we could get handsy and blow each other. We need to heal faster!"

"I couldn't agree with you more." Blaine looked towards the door to see if the coast was clear. After deciding it was, he tugged up his gown and started fondling his own growing erection, thankful that only his wrist and not fingers were broken. He winked at Kurt's moan and desperate shift to get some friction against his bed's mattress. They couldn't touch each other, but maybe if they were left alone long enough, they could get masterbationally lucky. Patient morale and endorphins were important to the healing process after-all.

* * * * * * *

If his mom had suspected what he and Blaine had been up to before arriving to tend to their care, she didn't say anything. She took their vitals, pleased that the numbers continued to improve, fed them, helped them use the bathroom, bathed them, changed their bandages, dressed them in clean clothes, and changed their sheets. And if she laid a new box of tissues beside each of them on their beds, it was with the same professional nurse and nurturing mother presence as all of her other care had been.

It took a little under two hours before Blaine was in a fresh medical gown, this one more opaque and a bit longer than the previous one. A pale blue blanket was tucked up to his armpits. He couldn't be sure it had been deliberately done, but surely he wasn't the only one that had thought the small wet stain on his sheets was obvious. It certainly smelled obvious to him, but he wasn't sure if it would be to a full Human. 

Kurt was also more modest now and gladly so, sporting a pair of back and gray skull print lounge pants. They weren't designer, but enough of an homage that he could pretend they were. As if his mom had read his mind or overheard his and Blaine's earlier conversation, he was also wearing a white tank-style undershirt as well. "Mom, does my left arm have to be wrapped so tight today? I swear, I'm not going to hurt myself. Surely, Miss Pillsbury didn't think so. Did she?" 

"There's nothing new in your chart that mentions anything other than her visit and compliance to continue to take medication and desire to have your dose increased." Her son's face fell before she could continue. "However, it also doesn't directly say that your binding needed to continue today. So I see no reason not to leave it off. You'll still need your elbow wrapped and in a sling and the IV stays, but no more complete immobility. I always disagreed with their diagnosis from the beginning, Honey."

Relief flooded his body, but even with the smile that came with it, he glared at his hand. "Are you sure I still need the evil IV?"

"As sure as you hate the evil Boost."

Kurt flattened his ears as he gave a smirking retort. "The last can tasted like a chicken pissed into a bottle of vanilla extract." 

"I thought they tasted like rotted fish." Carole didn't hold back her chuckle. Kurt may have been timid and quiet when she and Burt had first met him, but as he'd learned to trust them, they'd discovered he had a sarcastic and colorful sense of humor. 

"No. That was last night's can. It was so gross I threw up my cheeseburger. The orderly was pissed." Kurt realized what he'd just admitted and his brief moment of happiness drained along with the blood in his face. "Fuck. You're not going to take me down to the cafeteria anymore now are you?"

Carole patted her son's leg. "Lessen the cursing and I'll pretend you said nothing. The outings are cheering you boys up. When your dad gets here, we're going to take you both for a stroll."

The chance to get out of the room again was worth biting back a few fucks, shits, and damns. "Deal."

"That's nice of you, Carole."

Blaine's grateful smile was infectious and she returned it in kind. "You're welcome, Sweetie. The hybrid nerve specialist should be by soon to check out the damage to your tail. He's driving in from Washington, D.C.". 

"Wow, that far just for me?"

"I don't know the details. Maybe he has other patients to see in Ohio."

Blaine couldn't help but fuss at his blanket. Mixed race or not, he still identified as a hybrid and he was proud of the parts of his anatomy that made him visibly so. To lose his tail would be to lose a vital part of that identity. "Should I worry? It feels like I'm able to move it more, but the base still hurts even with that weird pillow they have me laying on."

"I'm sorry. I wish I knew, Blaine. We'll hope for the best, okay?" Carole made one last check of the boys' monitors and lightly kissed them each on the forehead before putting their charts back into the holders at the foot of their beds. "Do you either of you need anything before I finish my rounds? I promise to be back for your specialist evaluation, Blaine and your checkup, Kurt."

"I'm good. Thank you, Carole."

Kurt pressed his arms tight across his chest, face filled worry. Maybe deciding to be Layers Guy was a bad idea. "You'll be here in time to prep me so no one else will take off my clothes?"

"I promise, Kurt. There's only a couple of other patients in rooms right now and I'm not seeing anything on your chart about other procedures. The checkup is just routine, nothing invasive. Your lungs still need watching because of your broken ribs, so the doctor will have to lift up your shirt. I'll remove it for you if you'd prefer. If you have to go to the bathroom, just press the emergency call button. I'll come right away."

Kurt looked down the length of his body and debated asking for a blanket. The item would be one more thing he'd have to feel stripped off of him, so he let the thought go. "I'm think I'm good then too. Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, Sweeties. I'll see you later." Carole didn't let out her sigh of worry or drop her smile until left the room. The boys were trying. That they had to be back here so soon after their last admittance wasn't fair. She hoped Finn had learned his lesson. Perhaps having him volunteer when he came home for summer break would help drive the point home further. Her other boys should be home on the couch complaining about bad TV instead of worried that they were going to lose the use of a limb or feel violated every time they needed help using the bathroom or given an examination. 

She and Burt were trying to do everything they could to improve Kurt and Blaine's lives, but some days, it felt like she was running on a loop and the cycle they were stuck in would never end.

Seeing the charge nurse look at her strangely shook Carole out of her reflections and she carried on. There were other patients that needed her help. There was a mother in Room 6 with the flu and neither she nor her young daughter were showing signs of improvement. In 8 was a teenage boy with complications due to the inability to afford his asthma medications and living without adequate shelter. And 7? The elderly man in 7 made her want to cry. At least his final days would be spent in warmth with everything being done to ease his suffering. 

* * * * * * *

Blaine, Kurt, Burt, and Carole were celebrating, trying to keep their voices low but unable to contain their joy as they rolled and walked down the clinic's hallways. Blaine wasn't going to lose his tail. The examination and tests the specialist had conducted confirmed that the nerve damage was minimal. With continued care the swelling would down as would the pain. The sutures at the end where the tip had been removed were healing as well. The knowledge that both he and Kurt were also slotted to be discharged the next day added to their collective happiness.

This section of the clinic was unknown to the boys. It was were the staff locker rooms were and Carole was collecting her things now that her shift was over. Even from his position outside, Kurt could tell the lockers were a mismatched collection of institutional remodels and throwaways. More than one set spouted the Dalton crest and the mascot from Lima's public high school, William McKinley. Carole retrieved her bag from a dented Meijer's grocery store one and rejoined them. The hallways in this section hadn't been painted yet and were the same dingy cream color from the previous owners' use.

Carole thought she knew her way around the clinic by now, but with the constant, though never consistent, repairs and remodeling being done to transform the old factory into a working medical center, after twenty minutes it was clear she didn't. "I think I got us lost. Sorry. Thought for sure I'd gone back the way we came."

"Isn't that the elevator down there?"

"Oh, bless your beautiful eyes, Kurt! Yes, it is!"

As a group, the family sighed when they reached it. This one's doors hadn't been wiped down and construction dust covered the hallway's flooring. The English and Braille placard had fallen off the wall beside it and not even a handwritten and embossed sign had been taped up describing where in the building they were, as had been done to the others as a temporary guide for the staff and patients.

Burt looked back the way they came. It wasn't anymore promising than the way ahead. "Well, it's _an_ elevator. It's gotta lead somewhere." When everyone was inside, he pressed the button to take them to the first floor and prayed that it would work. The last thing his family needed was to be stuck in a metal box. They had been through enough, his son especially.

"Oh, thank god!" It was Blaine who let out the words everyone was thinking when the elevator not only worked, but deposited them into the clean and decorated formal lobby of the building. It was an entrance none of them had used before, always needing the emergency patient and employee one. Even for Kurt and Blaine's prior follow-up visits, it had been easier to pull the truck around to the former as wheelchairs were usually standing by and it was less of a walk to the examination rooms.

Kurt looked around the space in horror. The walls were covered in heavy, tone on tone, crimson wallpaper. Among the stripes wound embossed vines, flowers, and hummingbirds in shimmering full color. He couldn't help but believe they'd stolen it from a Victorian funeral home. To make matters worse, the floor tiles were white with a smaller floral theme and specks of brown sprinkled over the open spaces. Between the blood red walls, the graveyard floor, and the tests, exams, and treatments he'd had to endure, Kurt was certain that this place was designed to kill patients and dispose of their bodies as if they'd never existed.

The over-sized, out-of-place sign hanging upon one of the walls stated a different opinion. It was pale blue with a rainbow stretching over the top and above a bright yellow sun. Bold, colorful words were centered within a series of fluffy white clouds. "Brighter Life Health Clinic: Making your life brighter each day." That confirmed it for Kurt. This place was definitely a gateway to hell if not hell itself. 

Before Kurt could snark with Blaine about the atrocities pummeling his senses, his dad pointed to a life-sized standee of a lab coated, grinning Doctor Carl with a word bubble proclaiming, "Welcome, Honored Guests!" "There some kind of shindig going on that you know about, Carole?"

"No one mentioned anything to me about a gala."

Blaine studied the linen draped table next to the sign and the few neatly arranged event packets and placards left upon it. "It's not a gala. It's a meet and greet so the donors can see where their money is going and feel good about themselves. My parents went to these all the time."

Kurt couldn't help but continue to stare at the standee. Doctor Carl's smile was so big and his eye color kept shifting from brown to blue to green. It was mesmerizing. "There is no question anymore. I really have died and passed through the gates of hell."

The disoriented group had only progressed a few paces beyond the table when a perky, red dress clad, brown-haired, Human teenage girl approached them like an enthusiastic survey taker. "Hi! You must be our honored patient guests! Becky asked me to keep an eye out for you while she went to talk to catering about caviar and tater tots or something. So, welcome!" She picked up black and silver packets from the table and handed one each to the two adults. Unsure what to do with the other two given that the patients hands were all bandaged, she awkwardly wedged them between the boy's sides and the wheelchairs they were seated in. "There you are! Now we can go."

Carole, Burt, Kurt, and Blaine gave each other confused looks as the young woman rambled on, her words coming so fast they only understood a fraction of what she said. Carole was pretty sure she was complimented for being a volunteer nurse while Kurt bristled at the phrase directed towards himself and Blaine. They were hybrids, not "downtrodden, differently-raced souls." 

At the girl's insistence, the small group traversed down a few familiar corridors and soon came upon a greatly transformed cafeteria. Blaine knew this normally wasn't the sort of room this kind of event was held in, but given that the clinic was new and still undergoing improvements, it was likely the best the organizers could do. He may have only been to a couple of these functions, but his parents and Dalton Academy had prepared him well in the social graces expected of the elite. Even so, he felt as odd as the cashier station trying to hide under a mass of silver and cobalt bunting.

Burt took in the scene with wide eyes. Everyone was dressed so fancy that he felt out-of-place. He was glad he still had on the shirt and tie he'd worn to the bank earlier. Interest rates had gone down and he had wanted to discuss with the manager about the refinancing of the mortgage on his house. Not once did he regret taking in Kurt and Blaine, but the little extra a month would help with the added expenses.

As they were led further into the room with its extravagant decorations and high class people all stopping their conversations to stare at the newcomers, Kurt heard one of the doctors mutter the same thought that was going through his own head. "Oh, thank god, he's wearing pants."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but I've been full of self doubt over my idea of how to bring new life into the fic & finally dug up the courage to press on. The chapter was already at 4,000 words halfway through with more yet to go, so I decided to break it up. I swear it won't be another month before the next part is posted as a lot has already been written and everything has been plotted out. This chapter would not have been made possible without the help of ckerouac, knower all things shindig, gala, meet & greets, and fundraisers. Apparently there's a huge difference & the specificities of each will make your brain hurt. Eternal gratitude to notenoughtogivebread and when-kurt-met-blaine for being my sounding boards. And of course, avengerco my spouse, proofreader, & procurer of coffee and hard cider.


	16. The Shindig: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was supposed to be a family stroll followed by dinner of burgers and fries turned into quite the opposite. Kurt is glad that, for once, he's wearing pants.

\-------------

The energetic teenager deposited them into the room with a relieved sigh when she saw the clinic worker she was looking for. "Mason, Madison, and caregivers, this is Becky Jackson. I am going to leave you in her very capable hands. Thank you again for agreeing to be with us for this event. Daddy is going to love meeting you later. And as they say here, 'I hope that we can continue to provide you with many more brighter tomorrows!'"

Unsure what to do or say, Burt, Carole, Kurt, and Blaine waited until their new guide spoke. She was also young, petite in stature, a hybrid, and wore a cobalt blue polo shirt emblazoned with the clinic's logo and khaki pants. She wielded her clipboard like a sword and shield.

Becky carefully looked over the people that had been dumped upon her. She didn't know who they were, but they seemed harmless and she was generally a good judge of character. After a nod of satisfaction at what she found, she addressed them. "Sugar is kind of a ditz but she means well. Her father is really rich and he donated the CAT and X-ray machines, so we have to be nice to her. Look, I know you're not the McCarthy twins, but they're an hour late and we need to get this party rolling or the patrons will start leaving. If you play along, smile at the donors, and rave about the excellent care you're being provided with that no one else would give you, I promise you will each get one of the nicer swag bags. There is an open bar and food by the piano. Brad can play anything you would like. Do we have a deal or what?"

Burt took his cap off, rubbed his head, and thinking better of putting it back on, stuck it in his back pocket. "Boys, it's up to you. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't feel comfortable doing."

Kurt looked over to see his boyfriend's uncertain smile. He hated this place, but he also knew firsthand that no other would have treated him and that none of the staff had reported him to the cops. The fifty pairs of eyes staring curiously at him were a mix of human and hybrid. Backing out now wouldn't change that. If the donors were assuming he was someone else, then maybe his true identity wouldn't be exposed. Still, a part of him wanted to run and never look back. Unsure what to make of his own conflicting emotions, he decided to go with his gut. "What kind of food?"

"Little fancy hors d'oeuvres, finger sandwiches, mini cupcakes, shrimp cocktail."

"Baby cupcakes? I'm in!" Kurt leaned over to his boyfriend and whispered as softly as he could, "I am so glad I'm wearing clothes."

Blaine forced himself not to fidget as he kept his cast covered hand pressed against his lap and whispered back. "Lucky you. Burt forgot to bring me mine and I ran out of clean underwear. If it wasn't for the medical gown and blanket? Let's just say Brad the Piano Guy wouldn't be the only entertainment for the evening."

Kurt did everything he could to contain his laughter, but it wasn't working. "Your etiquette teacher must be rolling in her grave."

No matter how hard he wished a fairy godmother would come along and change the too thin, too short, pale blue, ass exposing garment into a suit and tie, nothing happened. "I thought it was just another day here and we were going for burgers and fries. Dalton Academy did not prepare me for this!"

Becky beamed with delight. "You are a Dalton Academy boy? Great! We can work with that. What about you?"

"I'd rather not say." Wary as to the reaction his statement might provoke, Kurt flattened his ears, grateful he'd chosen to wear the gray plaid newsboy cap and white tank top to help cover the markings that had been forced upon his body.

"That's okay. We'll wing it." She turned to the two adults. "And you two, anything good I can work with?"

Carole tried her best to hide her nervousness. She was proud of what she did for a living, but she had just worked a long shift and was in need of a shower. In no lifetime could she have imagined being invited into a room full of wealthy people, let alone while wearing her blue and violet butterfly print scrubs. They were whimsical and meant to make her patients smile, not fit in with ladies whose sparkling dresses and jumpsuits cost more than she brought home in a month. However, if it meant her adopted son and his boyfriend could continue to get free care, she would put on her best smile and play along. After all, in her profession, she knew firsthand that underneath their fancy clothes, they were just bodies that needed fixing when they broke, the same as everyone else. "I'm a registered nurse practitioner and my husband owns Hummel Tires & Lube."

"A nurse and a local business owner. That's very good. Are you helping them out for the day or what?"

Carole placed a hand on Blaine's left shoulder, careful not to get in the way of his IV. "We took them in when they were homeless and consider them like our sons."

"Human locals helping out the poor homeless and helpless hybrid youths? You are definitely much better than the McCarthy twins. The donors are going to eat this up!" Becky snapped her fingers and turned with a jaunty swish of her tail. "Let's go show them where their money is going and why they should care even more with their wallets."

* * * * * * *

The first person their guide brought them to didn't wait to be introduced. He was in his mid-forties, graying fur hidden until golden chestnut highlights. Kurt silently judged his suit. For a man that full of himself, he should have known enough to buy a hybrid, not human, designed suit and had it tailored. Instead of handsome, he looked frumpy. Like an accountant who had given up on finding anything better than his dead end job. He couldn't be bothered with proper etiquette either, just talked over Becky and not once did he offer to shake his parents' hands. 

"I'm sure you already know who I am. Bryan Ryan - community theatre star, featured soloist in the Kings Island Doodly-li-do Musical Review, nominated for a Chilly for my portrayal of Victor in the touring company of Cats on Ice, and the accountant for this here little clinic. I bet you two are costing us a pretty penny." Bryan focused his attention on the black-furred boy. "Say, you look awfully familiar. Have we met before?"

Blaine swallowed hard, not quite sure how to answer the man. "You, uh...you knew my mom. She went to high school with you. Human woman. Her maiden name was Pamela Mendoza; married Paul Anderson."

"Pamela? I remember a Pam. She was a MLF. I probably MDLFed her." Bryan let out a satisfied sigh. "I MDLFed a lot of ladies that weekend. Nothing says perpetual laidom like a bunch of desperate, horny, lonely women regretting their life choices at a high school reunion. That's my lesson to you boys. You'll thank me."

Burt wasn't exactly sure what the guy was saying, but he understood the last part and knew it was inappropriate. He changed the subject immediately. "We appreciate what this place has done for the kids. They've received real good care here." He coughed to cover his son's snort of disdain. "Miss Jackson, you said something about food and drinks? I think Kurt and Blaine could use a glass of water. Maybe a bite to eat?"

Bryan took a sip of his cocktail and eyed someone across the room he'd rather be talking to. "Try not get any stains on that medical gown. It costs us a fortune as it is to get rid of the nursing home dead people smell." Without another glance, he left the group. Sick people were gross and he was here to network.

Blaine turned to his boyfriend, wishing he'd never heard what he just did. "Kurt, can I be Naked Guy too now?"

Kurt sympathized with Blaine's look of disgust that was followed by one of crushing disappointment. "If it makes you feel any better, your bio dad dyes his fur. A whole body job like that with added highlights? Complete bleaching before the coloring. It's long and painful."

"How do you know this?"

"I looked into it after I escaped hoping to disguise myself. The box of hair coloring I stole didn't do much and it wore off quickly. The real deal was too expensive to contemplate." Kurt looked up at his dad with pleading eyes. "Could you wheel us over to the dessert table? Blaine could use a cookie."

Honestly, Burt couldn't agree more. He could use a beer if he was being honest. Blaine hadn't said much about his past, but if this guy Bryan really had knocked up his mom? The kid deserved better. "Is that alright with you, Miss Jackson?"

Becky checked off a name on her clipboard. One person down, forty more to go, twenty at minimum that would be offended if they didn't get to talk to the patients and see for themselves just who was getting their money. She was glad she wasn't the one stuck with leading the facility tours. "Sure thing. We'll meet and greet along the way. I see Shelby Corcoran, director of Vocal Adrenaline. Do either of you sing?"

"I was in the Dalton Academy Warblers."

"Perfect. Play it up. She is a sucker for hopeless cases like yours."

Blaine's muttered, "I'm not hopeless," got lost in the swirl of chattering voices as he and Kurt were moved through the crowds.

* * * * * * *

Along the way, they were stopped by an older, hybrid, lesbian couple who introduced themselves simply as Liz and Jan. Kurt and Blaine didn't have to say a word about their relationship. The women just knew. They were kind and genuinely sympathetic to their situation, wishing them a speedy recovery and an offer to talk more if they ever felt the need. Kurt and Blaine thanked them and Burt took Liz's business card on which she'd written her personal email address.

* * * * * * *

Shelby Corcoran was human and straight out of Broadway casting with her strong presence, long black hair, pale skin, and powerful voice. "Becky said you sing? I lost some of my best dancers and vocalists when the new laws went into place. I heard McKinley did to, though they were never really competition for us."

Blaine sighed wistfully. He missed performing. He missed his friends. He missed singing in hallways and common rooms and jumping on furniture from the excitement and harmonized energy it could bring. "I miss it. I was the lead vocalist for the Warblers."

"Warblers, huh? You were never much competition for us either, but your harmonies were good and you boys were cute. Shame what happened. Is that why you're here?"

"I've been having some complications due to the fire." It wasn't a complete lie. If it hadn't been for the election going the way it did, the racists wouldn't have felt empowered and keyed up enough to set his school on fire. And maybe his parents wouldn't have disowned him afterwards, considering him a lost cause and bad for their image. If he hadn't been homeless, he wouldn't have been beaten up and in need of free medical care. Blaine hoped he was playing it off well enough and that any discomfort from telling the white lie registered as painful memories and not enough medication.

"Oh, you poor kid. What's your name?"

"Blaine, Ma'am. Blaine Anderson."

"I'll remember that. It was nice to meet you. Take care." Unable to shake the young man's hand, she settled for the adult volunteers that were pushing him and the other boy around. Both were in bad shape, but Blaine's burns were visible above his gown and it had been hard not to stare. It wasn't right or fair. So much talent wasted because these hybrid kids had been denied a future. She'd see if the clinic had a burn unit that she could donate to. Afterwards would talk to some people in the entertainment industry and see if they couldn't set up a camp or scholarship or something for the kids.

"You too." 

* * * * * * *

Kurt couldn't keep up with the sea of faces and names that he was introduced to. Most of them didn't seem all that interested in him or Blaine. They talked to his parents about how kind it was they were volunteering at a place like this as they themselves simply didn't have the time. It was an easy lie and a transparent one at that. No one ever wanted to see how the sausages were made, just buy them. And that's what he and Blaine were - karmic sausages for the wealthy to brag to their friends about the good they were doing for the misfortunate. 

Getting to meet Coach Bieste was nice though. The man was thrilled to learn that Burt, the only mechanic he trusted with his truck, had taken in himself and Blaine and promised to send more work his way. Kurt talked engines with him, but left off the part about proper use of clutches. His dad wasn't the only one that liked having all of those cable channels. Blaine got to talk college football when Carole was asked how Finn was playing. Apparently, Bieste had been his coach at McKinley. It was a short, but pleasant conversation, and Kurt enjoyed being an actual part of it, instead of being talked at and over and made to feel like only a thing to be pitied.

* * * * * * *

At long last they reached the tables draped in black linens and laden with more kinds of finger foods than even his mom had given him at New Year's. If he'd had the use of his arms, he would have taken some of everything. As it was, he had to settle for his parents making up a plate for himself and Blaine and putting them in their laps. Glad for the break herself, Becky tucked a handful of hors d'oeuvres into a napkin and headed off to tackle another item on her list, promising to return once it was handled.

After being fed a couple of cocktail shrimp and a deviled egg, that proved messier than expected, by his dad, Kurt asked for a pause. He loved his boyfriend for picking up on his facial cues. 

"Mr. Hummel and Mrs. Hudson-Hummel, why don't you go get a drink from the bar? I'm sure Kurt and I will be fine. I can feed us both."

"Blaine, Sweetie, we told you to call us Carole and Burt."

Blaine shook his head, eyes wide with mortification at the thought. "At a party like this? No, Ma'am, you're Mr. and Mrs."

Carole laughed softly. "If you insist."

"Dad, could you get me some water or a Coke?"

Burt stared longingly at the bar. No matter how much he wanted that beer, his kids' needs came first. "You sure you'll be fine on your own, Buddy?"

"I have Blaine." 

Burt smiled at the boy. He'd grown up around all of this and was taking the day in stride, always knowing exactly what to say. "Yeah, you do. Blaine, what would you like?"

"Sparkling water would be lovely, thank you."

"If you're sure."

Kurt nudged his dad's leg with his foot. "We'll be fine, Dad. I promise. You won't be that far away. Go, get a free drink or two. Mom, ask them for their signature cocktail. Blaine told me they always have one at these sorts of things."

"I'm sold. Shall we, Dear?" Carole held out her arm for her husband to take and they strolled off. They might not have been dressed for a party like this, but they might as well enjoy the perks. 

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Kurt. You crashing this shindig too? I like your disguise. I should try that next time."

"April!" Kurt beamed at the woman dressed as one of the catering staff. It was a great ruse, but you had to do your prep work. He'd only managed to pull it off once himself. April, however, was an expert and he admired her for it. "Unfortunately, not a disguise. I'm a real patient. Second time too."

"Is that why I haven't seen you boys around lately? I heard that the mixed gang took over the K-Mart."

Blaine pointed to his broken leg with his broken wrist. "Yes, they did."

"I'm sorry. Boys as cute as you deserve better." April took a quick look around, assessing her surroundings and state of the party guests. It was the perfect time to make her move. "Say, would you boys mind helping a gal out?"

Kurt knew better than to agree immediately. "What's the job and what's the trade?"

April put a hand on her hip and stared the kid down. "You know the job. What do you want?"

"Shrimp and the bacon wrapped scallops."

"Deal. And you, Blaine?"

Blaine looked the table over. He missed food like this. So neat, so elegant. "Some of the crackers topped with crème fraise and caviar, please."

"Too messy. How about a napkin full of pâté? I was told it's imported."

"Deal." 

Seemingly out of nowhere, April pulled out two bottles of champagne and hid them behind Kurt's arms, cradled by the wheelchair's padding. With quick fingers, she loaded up his slings with seafood, remarking again that she needed to use such bandage work as a disguise sometime.

Pretending to be doing nothing other than offering a tray of hors d'oeuvres to the party's patient guests, she bent down and pulled aside Blaine's blanket. "Well, my...my...my. So it is true what they say about hybrid men. Your boyfriend is a lucky guy."

Blaine didn't have time to protest his dick being exposed and commented upon. Before he knew it, an ice cold platter was laid upon his naked lap and the blanket moved to cover it. Why did every single medical gown he'd worn have to ride up? He had barely cursed their inventor before a napkin full of meat was tucked in beside his cast covered arm and a bottle of champagne hidden behind it.

"That's a bonus for the show. Try not to let your flag pole raise before I can collect my wares. Wouldn't want 'em to tip over." With a wink, April sauntered off, a tray of finger sandwiches in her hands.

Kurt didn't watch where April went off to. He didn't want to know if she was pick pocketing bits and baubles off the guests and staring would have given her away even if he was curious. She'd return when she was done or needed more help. He'd already been paid and right now, he really just wanted to eat. "Blaine, can you feed me some of the non-sling scallops? The smell is driving me crazy and I'm starving."

It took Blaine a few tries before he could answer his boyfriend in a whisper. "I have a tray of shrimp frozen to my dick. I have a dicksicle, Kurt and it smells like cocktail sauce."

"Cock tail?" Kurt did everything he could not to burst out in tears of laughter. The glare of consternation on Blaine's face proved it wasn't working. "She'll be back."

"Before or after it falls off?"

"Think about warm things like the bacon wrapped scallops beside you on the table, next to the fondue, hot crab dip, and crackers. Wouldn't they taste great, Blaine?"

Knowing he was helpless to change his situation unless he wanted to risk his bits being exposed to Ohio's elite, Blaine tried to ignore his chilled bit and grumbled out a reluctant, "Fine. You owe me."

"You got a whole bottle of booze. April paid you plenty already." Kurt had tried, but Blaine still wasn't buying it. "When we get home tomorrow, if you're still cold, I'll warm it up in other ways. Really nice other ways."

The tray shifted on Blaine's lap as he grinned. "Deal."

* * * * * * *

"By any chance, are you Kurt?"

Kurt swallowed the bite of cracker and warm, cheesy crabmeat quickly and turned to the voice. Why couldn't they serve this kind of food to all the patients? They'd certainly heal quicker or at least not complain so much. Okay, the latter wasn't true, but at least it would help. "Yes, I am." At his answer, the young, brunette, hybrid woman breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, finally, a friendly face. I feel so out of place here." She tugged nervously at the hem of her floral blouse. It was nicest one she owned and yet it didn't come close to the outfits everyone else was wearing.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

"Oh, no! You don't. Not directly. Tina told me all about you and I've filled your orders before. I'm Marley, of Millie & Marley's? You're wearing the hat I put in your gift basket. I'm glad you like it."

With a returned smile, Kurt relaxed. "I'm glad you did too. I love a jaunty hat. Or any hat really, but this one was perfect. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Marley turned her smile upon Kurt's companion. "Are you Blaine?"

"Yes. Thank you for the lovely basket and the cookies. I had to steal some from Kurt when he was sleeping."

Well this was brand new information. "You said I ate them all."

"You would have if your dad hadn't snuck me some."

They all laughed at the joke which unfortunately ended with an awkward moment of silence. No one quite knowing what to say.

Kurt broke it with a heavy sigh. "So you feel out of place too? We just stumbled upon it and got sucked in."

"Santana got us an invite. She provided some lotions for the gift bags."

Kurt had a sudden flashback of the videos that graphically portrayed the use of those lotions. He no longer had a desire for the swag bags he'd been offered as a bribe. "That was nice."

"It was. I still feel out of place though. This isn't exactly the kind of party I'm used to. I'm a chips, dip, and jeans kind of gal, you know?"

"Me neither. I mean, I'm the same. Blaine's used to these though."

"Oh, you're rich?"

"Not for a long time. I wouldn't be here in this state, if..." Blaine trailed off and closed his eyes. Yes, he was used to parties like this, but never had he been the charity case on display, sitting buck naked in a wheelchair covered only in thin pieces of cloth and a plate of stolen shrimp. He had been handsome once, some even said debonair, in expensive tailored suits, bow ties, and gel to tame his unruly locks.

Marley put her hand to mouth, blood rushing to her face from embarrassment. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I should probably get going. I promised my mom I'd get her a few of the crab puffs."

"There are crab puffs?" Kurt sympathized with his boyfriend. He did. He knew all too well what it was like to be Mostly Naked Guy. But they could feel out of place and awkward together by the crab puffs. 

"Yes, on the end, right by the dessert table."

"Could you wheel us over?"

"Sure!" Marley was grateful to do anything to make up for the mistake she'd made. Kurt and Blaine seemed like really nice guys, and were according to Tina. She had hoped to network, but only managed to hand out a few business cards, one of which she found discarded on the floor.

"Thank you." Kurt was going to finish eating his weight in sea creatures and then he was going to eat his height in dessert. No ass tasting liquid supplements and tepid weird soup for him tonight. He was feasting. He let out a squeal as Marley parked him by the dessert and crab puff section with a promise to return shortly with Blaine. The donors could come and gawk at him here, by the mini cheesecakes his boyfriend would soon be feeding him. He wasn't budging. 

* * * * * * *

"Slumming it with a Reform boy are we, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't have to turn his head to know who had come up behind him. He'd spent three years of his life with the guy, and he didn't want to acknowledge the question. No one but a few doctors were supposed to know about Kurt's origins, but the guy always seemed to know things he shouldn't and had used it to his advantage. "I thought you were in a boarding school in France, Sebastian."

"I am. Came home on break to see my parents and they asked me to come to this with him. I don't know why. It's beneath those of our station."

"Those in your station, not mine. Not for awhile now." Blaine rubbed his temple and sighed. It was an embarrassing thing to admit to Sebastian, but it was what it was and if he was here as a patient, it was obvious how far he'd fallen. Many of those few hybrid and mixed families who had managed to come through the election and upended political climate intact, held on to their wealth and power with a tight grip, looking down upon those who had lost everything. The Smythes were one of those families, connected far and wide, possessing useable dirt and leverage on everyone, and having a reputation that stretched back generations. With old money, truth, and a lack of morals came great power.

"So the rumors were true. Your parents tossed you out. I told you never to trust humans, Blaine."

"They were my parents, Sebastian. Of course I did."

Sebastian leaned against the table and helped himself to the caviar. He'd had far better. These eggs tasted closer to fish bait. "Only one of them was. Our families may have run in different social circles, but your little secret wasn't exactly a secret."

"Biology doesn't matter." Blaine hated his dad for the things he'd done, for being racist and homophobic, but at least he'd still raised him to a point and let him board at Dalton. And unlike his biological father, he'd never laughed crudely about banging in his mom. 

"It obviously did to your dad."

Blaine fought hard to try and change the subject. "Have you heard about anyone else? I know Nick and Jeff left right when...when things started getting bad."

Sebastian snorted with disbelief. "Are you still hung up on that? Come on, Blaine, I wasn't the only one that had an 'arrangement' with the Dean. How do you think I kept a clean record and maintained straight A's. Nothing went on my permanent record that I didn't want to."

"That's different. You consented." 

"A dick's a dick, Blaine. Stroke it, suck it, fuck it. It's all the same."

"I told you, it's different."

"No, it's really not." Sebastian ran his fingers over the collar of Blaine's medical gown and down its front, taking pleasure in the shiver it evoked. "You need to drop the innocent schoolboy act because even in this rag, you're still sex on a stick. You're all grown up now. We could go somewhere private, see what else has grown."

Blaine never thought he'd be grateful for the platter of shrimp covering his dick, but since it added a layer of opacity under the blanket, he was now all for it. "I have a boyfriend."

"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

"That's why we never dated, Sebastian. You couldn't respect that when I was dating Trent."

"No, it's because you have terrible taste in men." Sebastian sneered at the homeless kid pathetically trying to move his bandaged arms to get at the desserts. "Or is it boys you like if gay face over there is who you're shacking up with. What is he, twelve?"

"He's almost seventeen same as me. What does it matter to you anyway?" Blaine closed his eyes and wished with all his might for Sebastian to disappear. If his fairy godmother couldn't turn his medical gown into a suit, could she turn Sebastian into a pumpkin or at least his wheelchair into a motorized one so he could try to get away.

Sebastian flicked at the IV bag draining into Blaine's arm. "Just seeing what kind of riffraff is getting our wares. It's a shame they're being wasted on him. These things aren't cheap."

"Your father is an attorney."

"Yes, but my family holds the majority of the stocks in the company that makes these. Gotta keep the shareholders happy, Blaine."

"Go away, Sebastian."

Sebastian was about to protest when a plain-clothed girl walked over and greeted Blaine with a dopey, perky smile. 

"Do you want me to take you over to Kurt now or should I come back?" 

He rolled his eyes at the guy's eager reply and turned towards the bar. "See you around, Blaine. Let me know if you want to stop playing in the kiddie pool. It's full of trash."

* * * * * * *

Kurt had absolutely not stolen the remaining mini cheesecakes and vanilla cream puffs and he would swear it to his grave. It was April who had done it and tucked them behind his arms where the bottles of champagne had been. The baby cupcakes had all been chocolate based, a clear oversight on the caterer's part, but the other desserts had made up for it. As had the crab puffs, pâté, and arrangement of crudité. Not the finger sandwiches though. He'd eaten week old dumpster subs that had tasted better. He was also pretty sure they were same ones the clinic fed to the patients. Crusts removed and bread cut into little triangles couldn't disguise the soggy, sour taste of disgust.

Blaine had fed him, but not eaten anything himself. Kurt had tried to engage him in conversation, but nothing had worked. Not even April's additional compliments while removing the tray of shrimp from his lap had provoked a reaction.

Kurt had a feeling his boyfriend's sullen mood was because of the meerkat-faced, overly-moussed prep school boy he'd seen him talking to, but this wasn't the place to ask. They could talk in their room later.

Becky Jackson precipitated his parents' return, herding them along with a small group of impeccably dressed patrons. He was grateful for the distraction it gave Blaine. He thanked his dad for the drink and for holding it up to his lips. After all that food, he was parched.

"Kurt, Blaine Anderson, Mr. Hummel, and Mrs. Hudson-Hummel, I would like to introduce you to Dame Edna Kennington, her great-grandson Trent Myers Kennington, Mr. and Mrs. Luo-Montgomery, and their son, Wesley Luo-Montgomery."

Blaine put on his most charming smile, trying to hide his embarrassment at his state of dress and situation. He knew these people. He'd been to their parties and their homes in Westerville. They were Dalton Academy alumni - his friends, parents, and grandparents of his friends. "How lovely to see you all again. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"So do we, Dear. At least you're getting the best care. Dalton takes care of their own, you know." 

Blaine bit back his retort at Mrs. Luo-Montgomery's statement. If Dalton parents truly cared, they wouldn't have ignored the things that had gone on there. Election or not, they could have made it stop. They could have fired the teachers, administrators, and lacrosse coach that there had been rumors about for years before things had escalated. Before it became dozens of students abused out in the open instead of just a few in secret.

"How are you liking the facilities, Blaine? Mother and I produced the very first commercially available can of Boost right in this very room."

It was Kurt's turn next to bite back a string of curses. He didn't care how classy Dame Edna Kennington was dressed, nor how charming her British accent was. She was evil. Pure, wrinkled, gray-furred, diamond-adorned evil. "You're the inventor of Boost?"

"Not me, Young Man, my mother. I'd sit on her knee as she blended this and that, offering me a taste of each new concoction. It was during the War. Our kind were always being short changed on ration coupons; always the last allowed into the stores only to find everything bought up. Babies were dying; mothers couldn't feed their children. So my mother took it upon herself to do something about it. She borrowed money from everyone she knew, worked day and night seven days a week, and finally scraped together enough money to buy this building and the equipment to run it. Before long, she was able to buy the surrounding land and a larger facility, even her own dairy cows. My mother saved lives and now her legacy gets to live on. We don't donate the sellable quality product of course. Business is business after all, but the end runs, batches we pull for testing, and those that don't quite make the grade but still pass are all suitable for consumption. I'm sure you patients are grateful to get any care at all. The supplements are a boost!" Edna chucked at her play on words. It was a slogan they continued to use in many of their advertisements.

When at last the woman's elitist, privileged monologue was over, Kurt tried to urge his wheelchair forward, hoping to run over her foot. He felt his dad's firm grip on the back of the chair and stopped his movements. He said the polite remarks expected of him and only in his head did he add that he hoped she burned in a hell covered in the lobby's wallpaper.

* * * * * * *

When the adults wandered off, Burt and Carole to the savory hors d'oeuvres table and the others to talk to more interesting people, dragging Becky with them to complain about something she obviously had no control over, Blaine was finally able to reconnected with his friends. 

Trent, "So how have you really been, Blaine? I haven't seen you in forever."

Blaine wasn't sure how to answer that. According to Sebastian, everyone knew everything anyway so what was the point? But these were his friends. He'd practically grown up with these guys. "It's been rough, but things are better now. I have Kurt and I'm living with his parents. They've been really great to us. It's not just for show."

"Are you two...?"

This Blaine was comfortable with and he beamed at Kurt with pride. "Kurt is my boyfriend."

"You make a cute couple. You're a lucky guy, Kurt. Blaine's a catch."

Blaine caught Kurt's silent, questioning eyes and filled him in. "Trent and I dated when we were what, fourteen?"

Trent let out a wistful sigh, blushing fondly at the memory. "First crushes. It was sweet."

"It was. Are either of you back at school?" Blaine included Wes in the conversation, feeling bad for leaving his best friend out of it before now.

Trent was the first to answer, hands in the pants pockets of his grey suit, shrugging off his inevitable fate. "Great grandmum likes me staying close, so she hired private tutors. She wants me to take over the business some day."

Kurt played innocent when Trent questioned his barely audible, mumbled, "Maybe you can make it not suck."

Wes tried not to choke as swallowed the bite of his cucumber and watercress finger sandwich. He honestly couldn't blame Kurt for the remark. He'd been in the hospital once to have his appendix removed. The Kenningtons really had no clue how awful their product tasted. "I go to boarding school in New York. Their show choir is highly ranked and their academics are amazing. They have an all inclusive, non-discrimination policy too. You should look into it, Blaine. You too, Kurt. They have scholarships for disadvantaged students, if either of you need one."

Blaine didn't admit out loud that it was tempting. Dalton had been his refuge, the one place he was truly accepted and cared for. He'd had such a great life back then. He couldn't leave Kurt though. Didn't want to leave him. He understood him in ways these guys couldn't. Maybe once he healed, they could look into it. Kurt used to have his own dreams about going to New York City one day.

Wanting to lighten the mood and sudden quietness, Blaine engaged his friends in recounting memories of better times, filling Kurt in on some of the antics they had gotten up to. Proudly proclaiming that at Dalton, the Warblers had been like rockstars. 

When it was time to part, Wes' parents were giving him the "come meet someone important" look, he gave his friends the addresses of his new email and Tumblr. All three hoped to get together again in a less formal situation.

* * * * * * *

Carole was taking a sip of her signature cocktail that was yellow and fruity and wonderful, when she saw _her_ across the room, talking with a couple of people in a small, loose group. Every inch of her was regal from her cascading hair to her full, floral burgundy and midnight brocaded skirt and matching solid black top, to her expertly applied make-up, and tasteful jewelry. The people around her were smiling and laughing because of course they would. Anyone would in her presence. It took Carole a few moments before she could breathe properly again. And, here she was, breathing almost the same air as...as... "Oh my god, it's Mercedes Jones!"

Kurt looked towards where his mom was pointing and released the straw placed in his drink, "Yeah, Old Lady Mercedes. I help her garden and do yard work for her. She's the woman with the bee shed." He shuddered involuntarily. He was never going to forget that experience.

Without realizing he was doing it, Burt took away the drink he'd been holding for his son and took a sip of it himself. "Wait, that's the Mercedes you been helping, Kiddo?"

Kurt looked back and forth between his parents. They were acting weird and not just normal parent weird. "Yes, why?"

"You really don't know who she is, Bud?"

"A nice lady that pays me in cookies and likes it when I sing with her?"

Carole's gasp sounded loud in her ears, but at this moment she didn't care. "You've gotten to sing with her? Oh, Kurt, you're living my dream. You have no idea!"

Burt tried not to laugh at Kurt's continued confusion and clued him in. "Miss Jones was huge in her day. Sold out world tours till the day she went into retirement. Real sweet lady. Always really great with her fans. Knew her roots and every tour included a stop in Ohio. Your mom has all of her albums and a box filled with ticket stubs, show booklets, and magazines."

"Wow." Kurt was shocked and wondered what their reaction would be if they realized she lived only a few blocks away from their house. "I guess I could introduce you? She sometimes forgets who I am and confuses me for her late husband though."

"You mean Roderick? They were inseparable. Met in their high school glee club. He became her manager. Sometimes she'd bring him up on the stage so they could sing together. He doted on her. They were a mixed race couple in a time when such was frowned upon. That didn't stop them. If a venue wouldn't take her, Roderick would find one that would." Carole held a hand to her heart. "They were an inspiration to so many people. It was such a tragedy when he died."

Kurt chuckled at his mom's celebrity worship. He bet he could make her fangirl heart beat faster with a bit of gossip. "Doctor Jones is her daughter."

"Doctor Jones, as in your Doctor Jones, who works here at the clinic?"

"The very one." Kurt shared a sly grin with Blaine, but it seemed as if his boyfriend was less on finding his mom funny and more on being star struck as well. Was he the only one who didn't know Mercedes as anything but a nice old lady who made him embarrassing hats and gave him thermoses of hot chocolate?

Carole beamed at her boys with maternal hope. "I bet she went to the best schools. Oh, Kurt, Blaine, you two are so lucky! Mercedes Jones' doctor daughter!" Kurt's quiet laughter made her pause. "Wait, I've assisted Mercedes Jones' doctor daughter! I've handed her things and taken her orders and prepared patients for her. She calls me Nurse Carole. Oh my god, I'm two degrees of separation from Mercedes' Jones! Hold me, Burt, I'm going to faint."

"Let's go meet her first, Dear." Burt turned to his son. "You sure it'll be okay?"

Kurt shrugged. "I can't see why it wouldn't be. I've known her for almost two years. Aren't we supposed to schmooze with the donors so they can see who they're helping?"

"You make an excellent point." Burt took his wife and son's now empty drink glasses and set them down on the tray of a passing waiter. "Ready, Sweetheart?"

With a look of horror, Carole suddenly remembered what she was wearing. "Do I look okay? Do I smell okay? I keep smelling bacon and seafood. It's not me, is it?"

Blaine turned a charming smile upon the woman, "You look and smell fine, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel."

"Thank you, Blaine." Carole took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go do this! I can't believe I'm going to meet Mercedes Jones!"

It took only a few whispered, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Mercedes Jones. I'm going to meet her. I'm actually going to meet to her. It's a real thing that's going to happen." before the small group reached the famous and beloved singer. The people she had been chatting with had moved on and she stood alone, holding the arm of her daughter. 

Kurt had never seen Doctor Jones in anything but scrubs or professional dress and her lab coat. Today she was wearing a velvety deep green jumpsuit with a scooped neckline, that hugged her calves and thighs. It was a popular style of formal attire for hybrid women not wanting to be encumbered by a skirt or dress. 

He tried to return the doctor's smile, but it was forced. With Mercedes, he didn't have to pretend at all. 

She greeted him with enthusiasm which included a hug and kiss on his cheek. "Kurt! How are you feeling, Sweetie? Whitney said you were back here, you poor thing."

"I'm fine. Sorry I haven't been over lately. As soon as my shoulder is better, I promise I'll come by and help you out."

"Help me? Kurt, you've got more bandages than a mummy. So does your Blaine. This young gentleman is Blaine, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I am." Blaine held out his right hand, but was gently rejected in favor of a kiss to his cheek. He appreciated the kindness. The protocols drilled into him hadn't included ways to deal with injuries, so he'd gone with what he knew, and many of the attendees had shaken his hand despite the cast. It was beginning to hurt.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Blaine." Mercedes turned back to the boy who had wandered into her yard looking for any missed tomatoes in her garden, dressed in torn, mismatched clothing, and looking like the world had beaten him down. She'd offered him a plate of cookies, her husband's favorite, and a job of helping her keep the yard neat. The poor kid had needed someone to care and with her daughter grown, she'd needed someone to take care of. "Kurt, you focus on healing. Whitney and I are making sure you're provided with only the best care. Whatever you need, we're here for you. I always wanted to do more for you, but never knew how before." 

Kurt shifted nervously at the implication that Mercedes and her daughter were paying for his care and therapy. He hadn't known how these things worked. It was a free clinic, all of the equipment was secondhand, the Boost and patient foods were clearly donated leftovers, and most of the staff were volunteers. He just figured things worked out somehow. He wondered if his parents knew and he wondered if anyone was funding Blaine's care. 

What he did know was that he owed the woman a lot from his time on the streets and how to express that gratitude. "Thank you, for everything. I have a home now." He smiled at his eager, patiently waiting parents. "This is Carole Hudson-Hummel and Burt Hummel. They took me in. Blaine too."

"I'm so happy for you, Kurt. It is a pleasure to meet you, Burt, Carole!"

Carole had been watching the exchange between her son and her idol, enraptured. He really did know Mercedes Jones and she knew him and was so kind and gentle. Being this close to her was a dream come true. But when that smile was focused on herself, she thought she was going to die and go straight to heaven. Mercedes Jones was shaking her hand. Without thinking she blurted out. "I have all of all of your albums on vinyl and iTunes and I love you!" Carole put a hand over her mouth, mortified. "I am so sorry."

"Don't be. It's sweet. I love your scrubs. They're adorable! I bet they make all of your patients smile."

Carole looked down to double check what she was wearing. If the queen of red carpets had just complimented her clothing it was surely because her nursing scrubs had turned into a ball gown. "I...I...Thank you. I'd like to hope so." 

"They do, Mom. You have good taste." 

"See, even Kurt agrees. How about a picture? Give Whitney your phone." Meeting fans didn't happen as often these days, not at her age and with the decades of non-stop performances behind her. Mercedes turned towards her daughter. She'd tried her best to keep her out of the limelight, but such encounters had always been an unavoidable part of the girl's life. Taking pictures for fans was an expected duty, but she preferred asking all the same. "You don't mind, do you, Honey?"

"Of course not, Mom." Whitney took the phone from Carole and did as her mother asked. With her advanced years and progressing Alzheimer's, the woman didn't have many good days. So while her awareness of the present lasted, she was happy to indulge her wishes. All these weeks working with Carole and she'd hadn't known the nurse was a fan. She'd never let on. Maybe she hadn't made the connection. At least Kurt was behaving himself. He was clothed for once, thank Jesus, and the only person he'd sneered at was Dame Kennington. Thankfully, the woman hadn't noticed. Without her, the clinic wouldn't exist, and though Boost wasn't the best tasting nutritional supplement on the market, it was medically sound and essential to her patients. Kurt was more broken than he realized and he could hate this place and herself all he wanted. She still wasn't going to let him down. Her mother had taken a special interest in the boy and he had only treated her kindly and with respect. Most would have turned away if mistaken for a dead spouse, but Kurt took it stride. Her mom was filled with stories about her husband helping her in the garden, cleaning out her shed, clearing her sidewalk of leaves and snow. Kurt made her mom's bad days better and she couldn't help but admire that.

"Everyone gather around. You too, Burt, Kurt, Blaine." When a couple of pictures were taken, Mercedes drew Carole to her side. "Now a few with just you and me. Strong women who raise the beautiful children God gave us."

Carole tried to speak in coherent sentences but it wasn't working. She was pretty sure she got out a couple of thank you's and a "you're even more beautiful and amazing in person" and a repeated, "I can't believe this is happening."

"Well now you have pictures to prove it and a couple of signed cocktail napkins."

Carole looked down at her hands and there they were. She hadn't remembered that part. Meeting Mercedes Jones was everything and more than she could have dreamed of in a hundred lifetimes. The photo of them together immediately became her phone's wallpaper. 

Mercedes kept her public smile on, hiding the pain the sight of Kurt caused her. If this was what he looked like a few weeks after the brutal attack, she could only imagine how much worse it had been. She was grateful he had a safe place to live now with people who clearly loved him. "Kurt, try to take care, okay? Don't push yourself. When you get better, and I mean completely better, then you can come over and bring Blaine. I miss your sweet voice."

"I miss yours too." Kurt sighed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry for not knowing you were famous."

"I thought it was adorable. Proved to me you had a good soul." 

As Mercedes hugged him one last time, Kurt felt money being slipped into the sling holding his left arm. Before he could protest and return it, she'd walked away, giving him a little wave. His mom said his thoughts for him.

"She really is everything they say she is and more."

* * * * * * *

His mom's squeals of, "Oh my god, I just met Mercedes Jones! I think I'm going to pee my pants!" made the group realize that a bathroom break was a good idea. Which is how Kurt now found himself in the only wheelchair accessible stall crapping both lungs and his entire colon out. Maybe eating half the contents of the dessert and hot hors d'oeuvres table in a span of two hours hadn't been the best idea, but at the time it had been so worth it. 

Thankfully, his dad had said nothing about the food hidden in his and Blaine's wheelchairs and in his slings, but did sigh grumpily at the bottle of booze. He'd promised to explain later and his dad had accepted it with an, "Okay, Kiddo. I know I can trust you to do the right thing." Kurt smiled at the gentle reprimand. Part of him wanted to be annoyed because drinking would far be the least of the things he'd done. He'd take it though because it was nice that he got to keep Burt as his dad.

Blaine had thought attending the meet and greet in nothing but his medical gown and a blanket and having April comment on the size of his dick was as embarrassing as the day could get. Yet here he was in a public bathroom just down the hall from said party, standing at a urinal, leaning on Burt, and trying not to jostle the IV tethered between his hand and the wheelchair. His entire backside was exposed and he'd had to lift his gown, exposing even more of his body, and have it held out of the way by Burt. His only consolation was that at least he was able to control his penis himself and its endless stream of pee using the fingers of his cast covered hand. No one else had been in the bathroom when he, Kurt, and Burt had entered. A second mercy he was grateful for.

"Blaine, did I ever tell you that when doing a nude scene you need to clench your butt cheeks and thrust out your tail? That way the audience will know that every part of you is naked and excited before you turn around into the pose. It's a guaranteed shot the director will want to use in the promos. Point with your whole body. That's the key to acting."

Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't believe _who_ he was hearing when he was in this state. "Cooper? What are you doing here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A month ago when I came up with the idea of "the shindig" as a way to bring new life into this verse, both for the reader and myself, I was freaking out, stressed beyond belief, and doubting my ability to pull it off and questioning its plausibility. There was so much research to do. So many decisions to make. Which canon characters would by hybrids, which would be human, what would their relationship be to the clinic, how many could I fit into one chapter. who should I save for later. Once the research, planning, and plotting was done, I was able to sit down and finally start writing. And write I did. This time with a joy I hadn't thought possible. The new characters came together, some better than others, some serious, some happy. My personal favorites are the April and Carole scenes. I hope you enjoy them too.
> 
> This chapter would not have been made possible without the help of the following people: ckerouac - knower all things shindig, gala, meet & greets, and fundraisers, notenoughtogivebread and when-kurt-met-blaine - my sounding boards, nikkisrandomthingsfan - who helped me get Becky's voice right, & avengerco - who agreed to spoilers before proofreading the chapter. Thanks also go to margarita-sisters for helping me make decisions my brain was too fried from stress and research to, and to 47mel47 for giving a name to Mercedes' husband and her amazing video of all the Glee characters to help me remember who was who in later seasons. (I really need to do a full rewatch.) If I have forgotten anyone, I am truly sorry. I love you all. As one of my favorite gifs says, "Thanks for putting up with my shit." <3
> 
> Lastly, I'm creating a Who's Who in the Empty Nest Verse guide to help both me and you keep track. Gods know I needed with the introduction of 14 new characters in this chapter with more planned for the future. I had thought figuring out who would attend Finn's party was hard. I'm laughing at that past me now. :p


	17. Cooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine, after being homeless for almost a year, reunites with his brother under the most awkward of circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to notenoughtogivebread, black-john-lennon, avengerco, and the FBI agent reading through my extensive google research history. TW: for mentions of Kurt's past trauma in this verse. Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out. Despite rewatching Big Brother a dozen times & transcribing the Cooper scenes, I had a hard time finding his voice. Once I did, it went easier. Then, just as the first draft of the chapter was done, I was inspired to write the next one. I had many scenes clear as day in my head, so I went with it. Chapter 18 ended up clocking in at over 19,000 words and closing out this fic. So for your wait, you'll get both this weekend. I hope you enjoy them. :)

\----------------------

Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't believe _who_ he was hearing when he was in this state. "Cooper? What are you doing here?" 

"I'm one of the talent guests, Squirt. It's in the program booklet."

Blaine clenched his eyes shut. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

Burt put a comforting hand on the boy's back. "You okay? You want me to get this guy to leave?"

"No. He's my brother." Bladder finally empty, thanks in no part to the near depleted IV bag, Blaine tugged his medical gown back over his genitals and the sling that held his tail against his waist. There was no hope of getting it to close enough in the back to provide a bit of additional modesty. He sat back down in the wheelchair, relieved to be able to get the weight off his broken leg. Without him needing to ask, Burt put the blanket back over his lap and pushed him over to the sink in order to wash his hands. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel." 

"You're welcome, Kid."

"Blaine, what's going on?" Kurt was all for privacy, but damn it, he was curious now. Blaine hadn't talked much about his brother. All he knew was that he was a full human and a jerk. And apparently, versed in doing nude scenes in movies. Maybe he was a porn star?

"I'll explain when you get out, Kurt."

"Dad, can you help me? I'm done." He glared at the bag of fluid dripping into his veins. He was done for now, but in half an hour, he'd probably have to pee again. How he'd made it through two hours of the meet and greet, he didn't know. He couldn't even wipe his own ass because of that damn thing.

"Sure, Bud. I'll be right in." Burt turned back to Blaine. "You going to be alright?"

"Yeah, go help Kurt."

Kurt. Kurt. He knew that name from somewhere. He tried peaking into the stall when the older man entered it, but couldn't see much beyond a bit of chestnut colored fur and a pair of skull print pants. "Hi, Kurt! I'm Cooper."

"Um, hi?" Kurt was grateful when his dad shut the stall door. The fact that he needed help was embarrassing enough without an audience. Not that he was able to see his audience, but still, now that he had one? "Blaine."

"Cooper, wait outside. I'll deal with you later. Now's really not the time or place."

"It's always the time for learning, Squirt. How else will you perfect your craft? Did I tell you that the high school wants me to teach a master class? You should come along. It'll be good for you."

"Please go." Blaine sighed as he finished washing his fingers, annoyed that water had gotten inside his cast, and really annoyed that his brother couldn't take a hint.

"Hey, we should sing a number together! Entertain the guests like we used to at Mom and Dad's parties. How about Hungry Like the Wolf? That one was always a crowd pleaser."

"I was five and you made me howl as back up vocals. It's racist."

"Then think of a different number. A crowd like this and with you sick, they'll eat it up."

His brother didn't get it. He'd never gotten it. At least his continued glares finally made his brother go away. Blaine was relieved when Kurt and Burt came out of the stall to wash up. "Do you mind taking me back to my room? I'm not really in the mood to return to the party."

"Not a problem, Kid. I'll wheel you boys out and go find Carole. Kurt, what do you want to do? Stay or go?"

Kurt accepted the wet and soapy paper towel his dad offered so that he could wipe down his hands. Not that he'd touched much, but still the last thing he wanted to get was dysentery. He'd had it before and it wasn't fun. "Go back with Blaine. I'm tired of being on display. But if you and Mom wanted to stay, I can too. I don't want to pull you away from the food and Mercedes."

"You boys come first."

"Dad..."

Burt finished washing his own hands and wiped down the handles and railings of both wheelchairs. "We can always come back down after we settle you two."

"Okay, but let Mom know I offered. I don't want to take her away if she doesn't want to go."

"And how do you know she didn't get in more, what do you kids call it these days? Fangirling, while you were in here?"

"Fine, but if she didn't..."

"I'll let you know, Kiddo."

Blaine was grateful that he didn't see his brother outside the bathroom, nor anywhere in the hallway. A burger to celebrate that he hadn't lost the use of his tail. That's what the rest of the day was supposed to be and it had turned into a nightmare version of his past - a party where he had to talk to strangers and people he knew while he was naked. Right now he just wanted to crawl into his hospital bed and pretend the strange afternoon had never happened. 

* * * * * * *

Blaine had asked to be allowed to sleep until it was time for his scans. He didn't want to talk about his brother and why the subject bothered him so much. "It's complicated," was the only explanation he gave, and his wish was respected.

Burt helped him into bed and Carole gave a quick check to his vitals so the nurse on call wouldn't wake him for such later. Together, they tucked the blanket around him and drew the curtain around his bed so he could sleep in privacy. 

With Kurt now also in his bed, Burt gathered up the little bundles of food and bottle of champagne the boys had snuck out of the party and put them into one of the swag bags Becky Jackson had given them as a thank you. Kurt's, and to a lesser extent, Blaine's, food insecurities weren't going to go away without a lot of time and therapy. He had to respect that. And if the boys had to sneak and horde food, at least this time it was good stuff, and there weren't anymore mice in the fridge. 

Burt hoped that what he'd told Kurt about doing the right thing regarding the booze had sunk in. He didn't condone underage drinking and if he had his way, the boys wouldn't have access to it. On the other hand, it wasn't like he hadn't drank at parties himself at that age and Kurt and Blaine had experienced more hardships and horrors than most adults did in a lifetime. They weren't exactly kids anymore because of it. But still, given the medications they were on, it wouldn't be medically advisable either. For now, he wasn't going to say anything more and choose to believe Blaine when he said he got it in trade from a woman they knew who was part of the catering staff. What they could have traded in their condition, he didn't know and honestly didn't want to ask. They didn't look too worse for the wear until Blaine saw his brother.

Out loud, he merely asked, "I'm going to take the food home and put it in the fridge for you, Kurt. That okay? I can find some ice or bring back a cooler and ice packs so you can keep it here if that would make you feel better."

Kurt clutched at his stomach which was still unhappy with him. "Home is fine. I think I overdid it on the mini cheesecakes."

"If you change your mind, Carole can text me."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No, problem, Kiddo. I'm going to go put a couple of hours in at the shop and this time remember to bring Blaine his clothes. You too in case you need a change for tomorrow."

"Mom, are you staying?" Kurt couldn't help but fidget. He hated being alone at the clinic and this day had been weird. The whole weekend had started out traumatic as fuck and the new week begun with being surrounded by fancy foods, a room full of strangers that counted as Lima's elite, discovering that the nice old lady who gave him brownies was an internationally renowned artist, and the arrival of Blaine's brother. It was a lot to take in. No wonder Blaine had decided to check out for a few hours. 

"For a few hours, Sweetie. Then I'll need to go home myself for a shower, some sleep, and bronze the hand that Mercedes Jones shook." She enjoyed the resulting laughter her joke had brought forth from her family.

"I'm glad you got to meet her."

"Me too. Thank you for letting me." Carole returned Kurt's smile.

Burt shrugged into his coat and picked up the bags. "Does anyone need anything while I'm out?"

"Coffee?"

"Nice try, Bud. Honey?"

"Do you mind stopping by the Lima Bean and getting me a large vanilla latte? The coffee at the nurse's station is terrible today."

"Anything else?"

"Just the coffee."

"Not a problem."

"Kurt, you and Blaine need anything reasonable?"

Kurt let out a dramatic sigh hoping to win his parents' sympathy. "Just clothes for both of us if I can't have coffee."

"When you get home, Sweetie. I'm sure the last thing you want is for the caffeine to raise your heart rate and give the doctors an excuse to keep you longer." She laughed at Kurt's horrified look. It was an easy half-truth. The kid needed sleep and to be calm, not wired in a situation that was already stressful. 

"I'll see you all tonight then." Burt kissed his wife goodbye and gave his son a gentle pat to his uninjured shoulder. He left with an internal sigh. The day wasn't even half over yet and it was already too long. He was going to need his own vat of coffee to make it through.

* * * * * * *

"Mom, can I go _without_ tonight?"

"Without clothes?"

Kurt nodded. "Last time Blaine and I were discharged, people kept coming in to do things before you got here. I don't want to feel them pulling down my pants when they go to check my leg."

"I understand, Sweetie. How about now though? Keep or go?"

"Are those donors going to be touring this section?"

"I honestly don't know. I can pull the privacy curtain around your bed. How's that sound?"

"Okay. Any more tests today?"

Carole looked at Kurt's chart. Despite it feeling like half the medical staff was making nice with the people funding this place, there were still enough on hand taking care of the patients. "They've ordered an X-ray on your ribs and a CAT scan on your hip. Doctor Howell wants to see if it got injured on Friday."

"Shouldn't he have checked then?"

"I guess it got overlooked." Carole suspected it was to eliminate any further mental trauma given the state he had been in and that it was Doctor Jones doing his intake examination. She kept her thoughts to herself. "You were supposed to do your breathing exercises and get iced an hour ago."

Kurt sighed. At least he'd gotten some good food out of the day. "Clothes off then."

"Blanket?"

"To be determined." Kurt watched with patient stoicism as his mom began the process, first carefully sitting him up to ease the cumbersome process of removing his tank top. He should have asked for a vest instead. It would have been easier. When he was told to lie down and roll on his side so the snaps at the back of his pants could be unfastened, he couldn't help but ask, "Only one more day, right?"

Carole could feel Kurt shaking when she opened the snaps on his lounge pants. It was a mild tremor, but there none-the-less. She hated the toll he continued to pay because of the unspeakable horrors done to him. His feeling of helplessness was palpable even as he gave consent to the action in the only way he knew how to gain control. "Only one more day unless the doctors find something worrisome enough to keep you."

"Okay."

"You ready?" 

Kurt nodded his head and laid down on his back to watch the worst part. He'd discovered that when he could see it was one of his parents taking off his pants, the flashbacks and panic were less severe. When he kept his eyes closed, it was always another set of hands he could feel and a different voice in his head - the one from the past telling him what a good boy he was and how good this was going to make him feel. Memories he wished he could forget. This time it wasn't as bad. His mom's movements were clinical and gentle. After removing his pants, she folded them up with care and placed them with his shirt and hat on the beside table.

"Socks?"

"Would it be weird if I said I wanted to keep them on?"

Carole gave her son a warm smile. "Not at all. Socks are comforting." 

"And I can take them off myself."

"Sounds like a solid plan." Carole kept her eyes focused on her son's face, trying to gauge his level of distress. He was fighting hard to tamp down his discomfort at being fully exposed as he laid upon the hospital bed. This was different than being helped to use the bathroom or being bathed. Those were active actions that served an end purpose that would be quickly over. Here, he was simply existing, naked and waiting until his broken body had to be touched again. "Blanket or no blanket?"

Kurt stared down at his nudity and then looked over at Blaine lying in his own bed, sullen and despondent in his singular medical gown, blanket already askew. He was probably going to be undergoing more tests too or at least a round of ice packs. Modesty meant nothing in this place. "No blanket. I'll take the privacy curtain though. Is there any way to make it where they can't see my bits through the window, but I can see if someone's coming?"

"Sure, Sweetie."

"I'm sorry about all of this."

Carole brushed a hand against her son's face wishing she could wipe away his pain. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Kurt. You're doing the best you can and you're going to keep getting better. We're always going to be here for you."

"I'm glad you decided to be my mom again."

"Oh, Honey, I never stopped." 

Kurt gave her a smile that he was pretty sure came off as more sad than hopeful. He wanted to make her happy again. He wanted them all to be happy, Blaine included, so he changed the subject. "Did you hear any good gossip at the party?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." Carole took the invitation for what it was, adjusted the privacy curtain to her son's liking, and sat down in the room's chair after dragging it closer to his bed. 

* * * * * * *

Carole returned to the boys' hospital room with a small bundle of cloth in her hands. She braced herself for what she had to ask of Kurt. He was obviously cold and miserable, the ice packs placed upon his multiple injuries had chilled his entire body and dampened his fur. He laid there, unable to move, returning her stare as she entered the curtained off area.

"Have you come to change my sheets? The cold packs did their job like always."

"Yes, but I also have an offer for you that you may not like."

"I'm naked, wet, and cold. Unless you have a can of Boost or one of those anal scopes hidden in the sheets, I don't think it could get much worse."

Carole sat down on the chair and held up the white and blue print garment at the top of the bundle.

"Oh, hell no! They put me like this, they can deal with staring at my shriveled dick and balls."

Carole pursed her lips at the language, not liking it, but knowing it for what it was. "Hear me out, Kurt. The donor tours are going on and you need to be taken down for your scans. Normally, I'd agree with you that a blanket was enough. However, I thought you might want to hide your scars. I know they bother you. It would also be for your protection, in case anyone recognizes your branding. The staff are sworn to protect the patients here and never disclose any information. Some of the donors might not feel so inclined."

"What about my ear?"

Carole retrieved a smaller piece of cloth, this one in a green geometric print. "It's one of the hats the doctors wear for surgery."

Kurt wanted to shift, wanted to pick at his sheets to ease his nerves. All he could do was watch his tail twitch out a random pattern as he weighed the offer. "Will you be there with me, in case they have to take off the gown?" 

"Of course."

"When are the tests?"

"Now. There's a wheelchair waiting outside of the room."

Kurt took a deep breath and then another, wincing at the pain they caused. Stupid broken ribs. "Can I pee first?"

* * * * * * *

Kurt had never thought he'd be grateful to be wearing a medical gown until the most handsome human man he'd ever seen walked into his hospital room. He had wavy black hair, a chiseled jaw, and the kind of grin that made his heart swoon. If it wasn't for the gown and blanket covering the lower half of his body, he knew for certain it would be obvious that other things had started to swoon as well.

The man had started to speak, but the words were lost on him because he'd quickly placed the face. He was the star of the Free Credit Rating Today dot com commercials. He knew the jingle by heart. Watching a lot of TV had paid off in a lot of happy ways. A new wave of hormones surged through his veins and flooded his dick as he remembered where else he'd seen the guy. The man had played Stripper #3 in that movie he'd come across while flipping through the premium channels. Stripper #3 with the sexy mailman costume and his see-through, bikini-wrapped package that he had thrust and pointed at the camera and the screaming, money waving audience at the strip club. He had never understood why Blaine hadn't wanted to watch the movie with him. Most of the men had been attractive and there were a few well endowed hybrid dancers as well. The plot was crap, but he hadn't exactly been watching it for that.

"Is this Blaine's room? I was told this was Blaine's room."

Kurt finally registered some of the gorgeous actor's words and was able to stumble out a breathless reply. "He's getting some scans done."

"Do you mind if I wait here?"

"No! Not at all." Kurt stared as the man plopped himself down in the chair and relaxed. If there was a heaven, he was pretty sure he was in it.

* * * * * * *

Kurt couldn't see much when Blaine was wheeled back in and helped onto his bed. The privacy curtain was still in place, and upon seeing that there was a visitor in the room, the nursing assistant helping his mom pulled the one around his boyfriend's area. He winced at Blaine's gasps of pain. Even being bathed didn't hurt as much as being moved to and from the bed and the testing and exam tables. Neither understood why they weren't on the good drugs. Last time they'd been on the meds for far longer. 

The gorgeous man in his part of the room, who still had yet to introduce himself, not that Kurt was complaining, pretended to be asleep. His snoring was too loud, his breathing too fast, and his head so stiff it was almost pointing in the direction of the newcomers. It was comically bad acting, but the drool was a realistic nice touch, so he had to give him that. Only when the nursing assistant was gone and Carole had pulled the curtain back so he and Blaine could see each other, did the actor "wake up."

"Oh, my goodness! I didn't know you had a visitor, Kurt." Carole put her hand to her heart and assessed her son. He didn't appear to be hurt or in distress, so hopefully the strange man was indeed as harmless as he looked.

"Hi, I'm Cooper." He took the nurse's hand and kissed it, putting on his most charming smile.

"I saw you sing at the gala." Carole couldn't help but swoon and saw that her son was too. 

"Guilty as charged. What can I say, my audience loves me."

"Kurt seems to know more famous people than I thought."

"Actually, I'm here to see Blaine."

"I told you to go away, Cooper."

It was only seeing his boyfriend's scowl and hearing his angry retort that Kurt finally made the connection. The dreamy man with the chiseled jaw, leather jacket, and tight jeans wasn't Cooper Hot Actor, but Cooper Blaine's Asshole Brother. "Blaine, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's not your fault, Kurt. Cooper, leave."

"But I'm here to see you, Squirt."

"Don't call me that."

With a wink and a, "You don't mind, do you?" to Carole and Kurt, Cooper picked up his chair and dragged it over to his brother's bedside

Carole saw the distress on Blaine's face and put herself between his bed and the unwanted visitor. She was used to dealing with Finn and his football playing friends as well as many unruly patients and their relatives. His cocky grin had worked on her once. It wouldn't again. "Young Man, you need to go." 

"I just want to talk, Little Brother. It's been too long."

"The time to talk was a year ago, Coop. Where were you then?"

"Away. I'm here now."

"Blaine?"

"Let him stay, Carole. I want to hear his answer. The real one." Blaine shifted in his bed, crossing his arms as best he could and flattened his ears. He was grateful for the nerve blocker they'd injected into the base of his spine before the scans. It hadn't worn off yet and he felt without it, his tail would be thrashing with years of pent up anger at his brother.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that."

Blaine was tired of being nice. Tired of holding everything in. Of being the dutiful son that let everyone walk over him in hopes of being accepted as a part of the family. His brother didn't care about him, so why should he offer him the same courtesy? With a deep breath, he let out the full force of his fury. "Don't be like what? Homeless? Burned and abandoned? Kicked out of the hospital before I could fully heal because the bills stopped being paid?" Blaine tugged at his medical gown until the ties gave way and it ripped open, exposing the dark pink scars that ran from his neck to his thigh. He pulled harder, his IV'ed hand hurting from the motions, but pleased at his brother's sharp intake of breath at the furless lines that ran along his chest. "I got these and the broken leg, wrist, and ribs when some assholes beat the crap out of me and Kurt. Ten months, Cooper. Where were you ten months ago? Where were you before then to pull me out of Dalton so none of this had to happen? I expected it from Dad and maybe Mom, but not from you."

"The screaming is good, Squirt, but next time, you should point so that your audience knows that what you're feeling is really intense. I'll let you in on an important acting tip. The key to a dramatic scene is pointing. When people are really emotional they point their fingers a lot. You have more to work with. Stanislavski said the fingers are the eyes of the body, but he never mentioned that the toes are the ears or that the tail is like the mouth. You really have to give into it."

Blaine moved the shredded remains of his medical gown over his genitals, leaving the rest of his body on display as he glared at his brother. "You're unbelievable."

"What do you mean?"

Blaine stared at his brother's relaxed and self assured pose, leaning back in the chair without a care in the world. As if what he'd just told him was as insignificant as a sun-filled weather report. "I just showed you my injuries, including my tail which I'm lucky I can still use. Yet, all you do, like you've always done, is tell me what I'm doing wrong. You waste no opportunity to remind me how much I suck at like everything. And I wasn't acting. This is my real life."

"I swear I didn't know. Not right away. And hey, it's not like there's a homeless directory right? How was I supposed to know where you were?"

Blaine huffed out his retort. "You knew enough to find me now."

"I heard about this place when I was doing press with one of my costars. He's a hybrid like you. One day, someone approached him about being a donor. I said I was interested, took the contact information down, called this place up, and asked if you happened to have used their services. It was a long shot, but it worked."

"That's private information."

"I can be very convincing. And hey, I made sure they gave you one of the nicest rooms with all the pretty nurses to give you sponge baths." Cooper winked at Carole.

"I'm gay and you know it. She's my boyfriend's mom."

Cooper brushed the matter off. His little brother was too picky for his own good. "Fine, then I'll have them send in a male nurse."

"Stop dodging the question."

"I answered your question."

"No, Cooper. You really didn't." Blaine rubbed his eyes and sighed. He was going to need a lot more therapy after this. He looked at his hand. It wasn't only bleeding where the IV had been inserted into it, but it had started to swell as well. "Carole, I think something's wrong. Can you help me?"

Carole moved from Kurt's bedside, where she'd been quietly listening to the conversation. It took only one look for her to become immediately concerned. "Cooper, you need to leave. Now!" She ignored the man's, "See you later, Squirt," and promptly stopped the IV flow and removed the line. Using the extra blanket stored in a drawer, she was able to elevate the affected arm. "Blaine, you're going to be fine, but I'm going to have the doctor on call check you out just to be certain, okay?"

"Thank you. I'm sorry for getting so upset."

Carole patted the boy's leg. "Sweetie, you have nothing to apologize for. I'll be right back." As she left, she heard the worry in Kurt's voice as he tried to distract Blaine from the grief his brother had caused and the mess that his hand had become.

* * * * * * *

Fortunately the IV problem was resolved quickly, an insertion site further up the arm used, and the doctor hadn't discovered anything to be worried about. As a precaution, Blaine's monitoring was increased in frequency, which annoyed both boys. 

Carole couldn't blame them. They wanted to be unhooked, go home, and return to the semi-privacy that had become their norm for the past month. To add to their misery, fresh IV bags were hung and a can of Boost placed before each of them. 

Blaine glared at his can with the same intensity as Kurt was directing at his own. "This day couldn't get any worse."

"I tried running over that lady's foot, but Dad stopped me. She's evil."

"Trent was always nice though." Blaine tried to give his boyfriend a smile, but failed. The smell wafting from the supplement was making him nauseous.

"Trent isn't feeding us canned chicken jizz."

"Kurt, language!"

Kurt only glanced briefly at his mom before returning his fury back on the can. "Fine. Canned chicken poopy. After I choke down this crap, take off my medical gown. I want my revenge. Want to join me, Blaine? I think this place could use two Naked Guys. We'll keep the privacy curtain hiding the view from the door if you want."

"You know what, sure. I'll take a blanket though. Snow's starting to fall and it's getting colder in here. I already had my dick frozen by a tray of shrimp cocktail today. Once was enough."

"What? This late in March?"

Blaine pointed to the window where large flakes were falling, reflecting ambient light and forming a thick layer upon the cars in the parking lot below. "I told you, this day sucks."

"Just a few more hours till it's over, boys. Would you like your sponge baths tonight or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. I may end up puking this up later. One sip and I'm already heaving. It looks and tastes like that thing I'm not allowed to say it does."

"Blaine?"

"Tomorrow is fine. I don't feel like going home smelling like this place and they're easier to do here."

"Not a problem." Carole reached her hand out just in time to catch Kurt's can before he could knock it off his tray table. She held it firmly in place in front of her son's mouth. "Not going to work, Kurt. Lips to straw. The sooner you're done, the sooner you can go back to tormenting staff that isn't me."

"Can I have a sleeping pill, Carole?"

"Certainly, Blaine. I'll get you something once you've had your supplement." She didn't bother asking Kurt if he wanted one. He preferred being aware of everything that went on. His intake exam had driven that point home for her. 

Home, she longed to be there too, in her bed, freshly showered, snuggled up to her husband talking about meeting Mercedes Jones, and not be in the presence of moody, naked teenage boys. That their feelings were understandable didn't take away from the fact that her batteries needed to be recharged. It had been a long, rollercoaster ride of a day. Tomorrow wouldn't be any shorter as she'd have to deal with her boys as well as a rush of unrelated patients at her paying job. And the snow. That was going to be fun to deal with on the roads as well. She'd have to look at the weather report to see how much was expected.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by another vulgar remark. "What about your penis, Kurt?"

"I asked if anyone was planning on touching it. They kept touching me at my last stay and so far this time I've only had one urine test, the lead blanket for X-rays, and one old guy nurse who dumped a gown on my lap. Probably didn't want to admit he got aroused by the sight of limp dick."

Carole only halfway managed to hold in her sigh and looked at Kurt's chart. "I'm not seeing anything scheduled. Last time you were being checked for STI's, infections, parasites, and a whole host of other things. This time, you have a few injuries on top of those recent ones. An initial urine test is routine and yours came back fine. I don't see why they'd want another."

"Good. You'll set the urinal up so I can use it without help?"

"Is it not in the right place now?"

Kurt looked to his bed's railing and saw that it was. "No, it's fine. I was just checking."

"Honey, I know you're scared and you don't want me to leave, but I'm exhausted. I promise, your dad and I will be back first thing in the morning. You and Blaine must be tired too. We could all use a good sleep."

"She's right, Kurt. Let's get this day over with."

"Okay." Kurt finished the can's vile contents and sat patiently while his mom removed his medical gown, lowered his bed to a sleeping position, had him check to see if he could indeed use the urinal without trouble, and then pulled a blanket over his body. He gave his boyfriend an encouraging smirk and wink as he was made equally nude and blanket covered. One more sleep and they'd be side by side in a singular bed where they could do happy things while naked.

He bid his mom goodnight as she turned off his room's light. One more sleep and he'd be out of here.

* * * * * * *

Blaine was home. Blissfully, happily home and not just because Carole had given him a dose of the good drugs because it hurt a lot getting in and out of a truck. At least he'd gotten to watch Kurt get a sponge bath. Kurt was gorgeous naked. April was right. Hybrids had big dicks. He was glad he was a hybrid. He was glad Kurt was a hybrid. Kurt had a big hybrid dick.

Then Kurt had pants and so did he! And a shirt and a coat and no more medical gown or IV. Then there was the truck and that sucked. The snow was pretty. He bet it would be prettier if was the same blue as Kurt's eyes or maybe lavender. It wasn't so pretty when the truck skidded a bit and Burt cursed the snow plows for not doing their job and something about budget cuts.

Then there was a bed and more naked Kurt before his pajamas got put on. At least he could see the outline of his boyfriend's dick through the pants so that was nice.

Sleep. He was going to have a really great sleep snuggled up next to not-naked Kurt.

When Blaine woke up he heard singing. He missed singing so he joined in. Hungry Like the Wolf was a racist song, but he sang it anyway. The tune was catchy and he knew the lyrics. He refused to howl. He wasn't a naive little kid anymore. Then he sang Rio and then a mash-up of Rio and Hungry. He wasn't sure who he sang with, but they kept talking about autographing women's boobs and guys' butts and how to take the perfect headshot. The person reminded him of his brother, but he knew that couldn't be the case because he was homeless and abandoned by his family and had a new family now. Just in case, he told the like-his-brother guy to go away in song because he was a strong fighter now. Then he snuggled back against Kurt and sang to him until he fell asleep dreaming about his perfect boyfriend in skintight jeans on a beach.

* * * * * * *

Blaine awoke groggy, confused, and with an uncomfortably full bladder. He only vaguely remembered going back to the Hummels and being tucked under blankets on the fold out couch. The TV was on and the lights were dimmed. An extra chair had been pulled up next to Burt's recliner and on it was the person he never wanted to see again.

"What are you doing here, Cooper? I thought I told you at the clinic to go away and leave me alone." 

"I wanted to see you again, Little Brother and clear some things up." Cooper stared intently at Blaine with his piercing blue eyes, making sure his statement got across.

"Why bother? You're just somebody that I used to know. It doesn't matter anymore."

"We could sing about it again, Squirt. Like this morning only hopefully you won't be so pitchy this time." 

"What?" Blaine shook his head and looked about the area near his side of the bed. "I can't deal with this right now. Go wait in the kitchen. Kurt, Burt, can one of you help me?"

"I can help."

Blaine raised his arms and shook his head in frustration, slamming his broken wrist down with a yelp. His brother wouldn't get a hint if it slammed him in the head. "Don't touch me, Cooper! Go wait in the kitchen."

"Okay. Okay."

Burt glared at the unwanted visitor and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. "What do you need, Blaine?"

"I can't find the urinal."

"I've got him, Dad." Kurt got off the bed and hurried to Blaine's bedside. With his left arm no longer in a sling and hooked up to an IV, he was relishing the freedom to use it "within reason and great caution" as his mom had stressed. He found the requested container and waited for his boyfriend to scoot to the edge of the bed and tug his pants down enough to free his penis. He held the urinal close enough to catch the flow, trying not to wince as it got heavier and heavier, putting a strain on his sprained elbow. The more his boyfriend peed, the more he realized he had to go too. One thing he'd learned about real relationships was that they weren't always sexy. Sometimes they were smelly and involved messy bodily functions. This however, was starting to take too long. "Oh my god, Blaine, please tell me you're almost done. I'm about to pee my pants."

With a relieved sigh, Blaine finished up and tried not to laugh as Kurt gingerly walked as quick as he could to the bathroom, trying not to spill the contents of the urinal, and making "eww, gross, so gross, at least he didn't poop, how does Carole do this every day" comments the whole way. He found a tissue, wiped himself off, pulled up his pants, and then cleaned his hands with the sanitizing wipes that had been placed next to the tissues. He looked up when he heard the gentle clearing of a throat.

"Do you want me to get rid of your brother, Kid? I know you two were talking earlier today, but given the pain killers you were on, you weren't exactly in your right mind."

"So all that was real?"

"Depends on what you remember."

"I'm afraid to ask."

Burt took off his favorite brown ball cap, ran a hand over his head, and put the hat back on. "Nothing I haven't heard before." He'd thought it a hundred times and would at least a hundred more. He couldn't wait till the boys were healed enough to move to their upstairs bedroom.

Blaine considered the offer carefully. Cooper had always been stubborn and loved being the center of attention. Until he got his own way, he wouldn't let up. "Let him stay for now. I'll talk to him."

"If you change your mind, let me know."

"Thank you. I appreciate the offer."

Burt took his wallet out of his back pocket and checked to see if he had enough cash on hand before making his next offer. "Would pizza help?"

"Yes!"

"Thank you for the input, Kurt, but I was asking Blaine."

"Pizza would be lovely. The last thing I had was Boost and the taste keeps coming back up."

Burt ignored Kurt's shouted inappropriate description of the stuff. He was definitely going to pick up more beer when he went out for pizza. Kurt getting readjusted to being back home and working on feeling safe again was going to try his patience as much as his defensive surliness had Carole's at the clinic. While he out he was also going to call Miss Pillsbury and see if she'd make a home visit later this week. Maybe they could all use some therapy this time.

He took everyone's pizza order, ignoring Cooper's weird suggestions that were "all the rage in LA." Avocado, chopped greens, and lemon-olive oil on a caramelized onion infused crust was not something you could find in Ohio and he couldn't fathom why anyone would even want to eat such a thing. He'd get the usual - a veggie supreme and meat lovers that were both hybrid safe. Cooper could pick off or add on whatever he wanted from the fridge to his own slices.

Burt checked to see if Kurt needed help cleaning up in the bathroom and was assured all was fine along with a groaned, "I know, Dad!" when he reminded the kid to stay off his injured leg and hip when he got out. With a last check on Blaine, he finally left. 

* * * * * * *

Blaine settled himself on the couch bed, pulling the sheet and comforter over his lap, and prepared for the inevitable. It didn't take long to come.

"Hey, Squirt. Can we talk?"

"I don't think there's much to say, Cooper."

Cooper pulled a chair closer to couch, straddling it backwards and leaning his arms on the back of it. "I think there is. I need to clear some things up and say I'm sorry. I really didn't know that Mom and Dad had kicked you out until I got a letter from a lawyer saying that your trust fund had been transferred into my name."

"You knew about the election."

"Yeah, and I voted for the other guy. What of it? I don't follow politics, Squirt. It's too confusing. I knew enough not to chose the idiot with the bad fake tan. Speaking of which, did you know that when you play a stripper, they spray tan you everywhere? And I mean everywhere."

"Yes, yes, I did!"

Cooper beamed at Kurt and reached for his gym bag where he always carried a few headshots. "So you've seen my movie then? Would you like an autograph?"

Blaine couldn't believe this. Even his boyfriend had turned on him. "Cooper! Kurt!"

Kurt paused in his limping stroll out of the room. "Just walking to the kitchen, Blaine. I'm going to make coffee before Dad gets home and tells me I can't. Do you want some?"

"What? Um, no, thank you."

"I'll take a double shot café macchiato."

When he made it to the kitchen, Kurt opened the cabinet where the coffee was stored and rolled his eyes. His dad had humored him and bought premium beans when he had worked at the shop. For everyday drinking, the man insisted that whatever was on sale was fine. The fact that he was getting to drink coffee at all was a treat, so he didn't complain. "We have a drip machine and a can of Chock Full o' Nuts French Roast."

"Oh, then just a little cream or milk in mine. Hey, Blainey, when you come out to L.A. you've got to try out this little cafe' I discovered on..."

This was all going exactly how he'd expected it to. "Cooper. Just stop. Stop talking about yourself for once and listen to me!" Blaine winced as he slammed his right arm down in frustration hitting the couch's bed frame with his cast. It was a stupid gesture he couldn't stop himself from making around his brother. He looked around for his sling and secured his arm in it. 

"You were talking about politics and I told you I didn't know much about them. What's so wrong about that? Until I got that letter, I thought you were still boarding at school. Dalton always had a great reputation."

Blaine rubbed his eyes in frustration. "You're unbelievable, you know that? After the election, the Dean, he let things happen. Hell, he did those things himself. To me, my friends. No one stopped him and no one cared. I expected Dad to ignore it and pretend it didn't happen, but not Mom. Not you. Why didn't you get me out of there?"

Cooper turned the chair around, put his arms on his knees, and stared intently at his brother. "I didn't know."

"Did you know about the fire?"

"Only after it happened. I didn't know you'd gotten burned until you showed me." Cooper let out a slow breath. He really was sorry. Blaine had looked horrible. "Hey, how'd you get from Westerville to Lima anyway? Why Lima in the first place when Columbus is closer?"

"I hitched a ride with a trucker. He said he was going to Columbus. He lied."

Blaine could hear Kurt's gasp as he eavesdropped from the kitchen. What his boyfriend suspected was exactly what had happened and how he had been forced to pay for the ride. Truckers didn't pick up hitchhikers for free. It was an experience he'd only shared with Doctor Jones and her attending nurse during his rectal and genital exam. It was one of many traumas he hadn't yet told his therapist or Kurt. 

"I don't know what to say to that, Squirt."

"I haven't heard from you in almost two years. Can you say something about that?"

"Little Brother, I know there's an age difference between us and I haven't been around much in your life, but I really want to be closer to you now. I want to get to know you a little better and have a chance to try to make things right. That's why I'm here. Can you give me that?"

Blaine looked down, his anger spent and a blush of embarrassment at how much he'd said and expressed started to creep in. He always had wanted a better relationship with Coop. It would be nice to have a part of his birth family back. "Yeah, I would love that."

Cooper turned away and then turned back, his face a perfect pose for such a dramatic event. "Well then, buckle your seat belt, Blaine because I'm about to pour you a tall glass of 'this is how it is'. I am not your full brother."

Blaine couldn't side eye his brother any harder if he tried. "Of course you're not. Mom cheated on Dad and I couldn't pass for human. That's why they sent me off to boarding school and told everyone I was adopted. Dad even tried building a car with me the summer I came out somehow expecting it to make me both straight and less hybrid. It didn't work, so he sent me back early."

His little brother wasn't getting it. Like always, it was up to him to teach the kid. "What you don't know is that Dad cheated on Mom with his firm's intern and she dumped the baby on him after filing a lawsuit and threatening to ruin him if he didn't take me...who was the baby."

Blaine agreed with Kurt's gasp. It was like being in one of the reality shows they watched. "Do you know who she is?"

"Dad never said. I didn't find out until I was looking in the file cabinet for something for school and found my original birth certificate. Mom had crossed out my birth mother's name in red pen and written 'homewrecker' over it and Dad's had been changed to 'bastard'. I always wondered why there were never any pics of me as a newborn. You never know when you'll need to make a quick buck and sell them to the press."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow. It was great to draw from though in my acting classes. Like this one time, I was a detective trying to figure out why there was a dead guy in a dress. And I drew upon the pain, asking myself, what if he's my long lost parent?"

Blaine had no words for that one and was grateful when Kurt came into the room, bringing coffee for Cooper and a cup of hot chocolate for himself. "Thank you. You didn't have to."

"I added extra marshmallows. They came from Finn's stash. He owes us."

Blaine couldn't argue with that, not really, and after Kurt retreated to the kitchen to fetch his own cup of coffee, he helped him settle back into bed, propping him up with pillows and covering his lap with the comforter.

"If I am your brother from another mother, does that make you my dude from another dad?"

"More like dude from another douche." Kurt gave his boyfriend a sheepish look. "Sorry, Blaine, but your bio dad is an asshole."

Cooper took a sip of his coffee. It was so very Midwestern everyman. Though he didn't care for it, he drank it anyway so he could channel it for when he had to play one. "You met him?"

"At the meet and greet. He doesn't know and I didn't want to tell him. Having one bastard for a father is enough."

Cooper saluted his brother. Proud he'd finally loosened up and learned a few curse words. "To the Bastard Brothers!" "What about you, Kurt? Are your parents bastards?" 

"Burt and Carole aren't my biological ones, but they're really nice. My bio dad was a bastard according to my mom."

"Then welcome to the club!"

They started talking about boarding schools. How in Cooper's, which was in Dayton and called The Johnson School, "and don't get me started on many times we made fun of that," and Blaine's, in Westerville, there was always that creepy gym teacher, the custodian that looked like he wanted to murder you, the nice lunch ladies, and the deans who were drunk on power and too stupid to have ever passed the entrance exam when they attended without the help of daddy donating a wing to the library or improving the lacrosse field.

"So, Kurt, were you a boarding school kid too?"

"In a way." Kurt tugged at the Hummel Tires & Lube cap to secure it more firmly over his head. Between it, his sleeveless white undershirt, red plaid flannel shirt, blue flannel pajama bottoms, and flannel boxer shorts, he felt like the product of John Mellencamp and a Midwestern truck driver's illicit hook-up. 

Blaine was grateful when he heard the front door open and all conservation stopped. Dealing with memories of his own past was bad enough. Kurt didn't deserve to relive his own tonight as well.

* * * * * * *

Kurt breathed a sign of relief when was saved from further explanation with the arrival of his dad and pizza. He was always going to consider it a treat to be savored, no matter how messy it was to eat with his non-dominant hand. Unlike Blaine, he drew the line at his dad cutting it up into bite-sized pieces and eating it with a fork. Clothes could be washed. Or burned in his case once he had enough money to buy better ones.

Burt took some slices for himself, opened a beer, and settled into his favorite chair. "So, Cooper, you been in anything I would know?"

Cooper started singing the Free Credit Rating Today Dot Com jingle and ended it with a huge smile. The national campaign had put him on the map and onto the couches of casting agents. "Know your score. Free Credit Rating Today Dot Com slash savings!" 

"Yeah, I've seen it. Never used the service, but the jingle is catchy. Anything else?"

"Kurt's a big fan of one of my movies."

Kurt lost all color in his face and could feel himself start to blush profusely. "It wasn't very good, Dad. and not really the kind of thing you'd watch. Would you like a cup of coffee? I made you some while you were gone." In every alternate universe, getting in trouble for that was far preferable to admitting that he'd watched one of _those movies_. And now that he'd reflected on it, it explained why Blaine had stopped watching it with him early on and read a book instead. 

Blaine helped Kurt change the subject. He didn't want to talk about that movie either. "Are you working on anything else, Coop?"

"As a matter of fact I am, Blainey." Cooper set down his pizza and sat up straighter, pointing to himself as he replied. "You are looking at the Diego in the live action, Michael Freakin' Bay film, _Dora the Explorer and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' Great Adventure_. It's one of the reasons I'm out here. Doing some press, pressing the flesh, and exploring my salt of the earth roots for the intense, gritty stuff that I might need to draw upon in future projects. I'm surprised you haven't seen any of my interviews." He couldn't understand why he wasn't getting the adoring adulation he was expecting. All was good now after that heart to heart, right? "Your brother is a big time movie star, Squirt. Why aren't you happier?"

"I am. That's great for you. Only, Diego is a Latino-Hybrid character. The show was even careful to get a Latino-Hybrid voice actor. You're neither. It's complete race washing."

"Hey, how do you know I'm not half Latino? Did you see my birth certificate? No. And neither did I long enough to look."

Blaine set down his fork, no longer hungry. "Fine, but you're not any part hybrid. Dad made it very clear that there wasn't a single trace of hybrid blood in our family tree until I came along. Couldn't you play Michelangelo or one of the other Turtles?"

Cooper shook his head. His sibling really was as clueless as ever. One of these days he was going to have to fly him out to LA and show him how the industry worked. "But that's not a face role, Blainey. Your brother is the lead in a movie with two beloved childhood franchises. There's even an action figure of me. I'll send you a few. They're going to be collectibles some day. Also, you should be lucky that I slept with the casting director and her husband. It kept me from being typecast as the hunk with a large package to deliver. You should have seen the sides I was sent after that movie."

Kurt teared up as he choked on his sip of coffee, trying and failing not to spray it all over himself.

"You okay, Bud?"

"I'm fine. I'll be fine." Kurt was going to kill Cooper and then he was going to kill him again for making him think of _those scenes_ in front of his dad. Then kill him a third time for being his boyfriend's brother in the first place. He was going to have to cross both #55 and #56 off his bucket list now and replace them with something less incestuous. He tried his best to get the subject back on track. After all, it was a topic he and Blaine had discussed on a number of occasions. "There is a lot of racism in Hollywood these days. I feel like we've gone back a hundred years where actors painting their faces black or wearing a fake tail and ears was considered acceptable. Only now instead of a white person pretending to be a person of color or a hybrid, they go and change the character to a straight, white, human."

Blaine took up where Kurt had left off. He had once dreamed of a career on the stage and it was looking less and less possible these days. "Race washing, straight washing, gender washing. It's all gotten worse. There was a lot of progress for awhile there too."

"Slow progress."

Blaine nodded in agreement with Kurt. "Slow but better. Now you're playing into it."

"I said I was sorry, Blaine. If it makes you feel any better, I had an audition for a TV pilot where I'd play an art thief who works for the FBI. The part was made for a white, male, late 20's to early 30's. Rumor has it, one of the FBI agents is a lesbian."

Blaine exchanged a look with Kurt. His brother still didn't get it and he was too tired to try and argue further. "That sounds great, Coop. I hope you get a callback."

"Hey, I may think that New York and Broadway are dead and TV and film are where it's at, but you could revive it, Blaine. Make sure it doesn't turn racist. It's filled with gays so you don't have to worry about that. And when I'm in the audience watching you, I want to be able to say that's my kid brother up there. I helped him get there."

Blaine closed his eyes and tried not to sigh out loud. The sentiment was genuine at least. "I'll think about it, Coop. I have missed performing." He looked at the clock on the wall and unsuccessfuly tried to remember when he'd last taken his medications. "Burt, is it time for my pain meds?"

Burt got up from his chair and checked the clock himself. It was time for both of the boys to start their nightly routine. "How much you hurtin', Kid?"

"Um, the regular amount I guess?"

"Advil okay then?"

"Sure. I'm kind of tired too." Blaine stared at his brother, but he wasn't getting the hint to leave. "Are you catching a flight back tonight, Coop?"

Cooper finished his slice of pizza. It was just as terrible and common as the coffee. "I've got a couple more days."

"Where have you been staying?"

"Well, Sunday I was at the Holiday Inn, but I spent last night with Doctor Jones."

Blaine was really glad he'd stopped eating. "You slept with my doctor?!"

"If I ever get a job playing a doctor on a soap or medical drama, I'm going to need experience to draw upon as doctors always have a lot of sex. Besides, I didn't know she was your doctor, Blaine. And trust me, we were not talking about you. Or much of anything for that matter." Cooper shook his head. Apparently, he was going to have to teach Blaine about casual sex too. 

Burt felt exactly the kind of horror both of the kids were experiencing. The Anderson brothers sure weren't shy about talking about intimate things. At least Blaine only did it while medicated. "We have the guest room upstairs if the boys' don't mind. It's going to be their room when they're feeling better."

"That sounds perfect! An actor needs all the experiences he can gather. Tomorrow, Little Bro, I'll get you your own cell phone and we can go shopping for some better clothes." He shook his head at the pair his brother and boyfriend made. Clearly, not all gay boys knew about fashion. "No offense, but you and Kurt dress too much alike."

"I'm on bed rest, Cooper. And these are hand-me-downs for which I am grateful for."

"Then I'll go shopping for you. Don't worry. I've got your back now." 

Blaine caved. Graphic T's, faded jeans, which were most often human ones with a hole cut out for his tail, flannel shirts, and hoodies never had been his style. Cheap and free hadn't left him with many other options. He'd been lucky even to throw a few things, including his Dalton blazer and a pair of gym pants, into a bag when the fire alarm had sounded. "That's nice of you. I miss my bow ties and cardigans."

"And we can get you some other pieces as well. Don't sweat it. That's what big brothers are for."


	18. Rollercoaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path to healing can be a rollercoaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this fic is finally over. I had planned to write another chapter, but as I was finishing up writing the final scene, it had a sense of completion about it, the perfect final note. There will be one more, much shorter, sequel, one I've had planned since the beginning. It'll be the ending to the verse. There will also be a few one shots and some meta. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did. Hugs to you all. TW: for brief, non-graphic & not considered mention of suicide, eating disorders, and Kurt's past traumas. Thanks to notenoughtogivebread, avengerco, girlwitharabbitheart, and google.

\-----------------

Blaine was glad that Cooper's visit was short due to being called back to LA to do some reshoots before the film's nationwide release. With Cooper around, his and Kurt's privacy had been non-existent. His brother insisted on not only watching them be tended to by Burt and Carole, but kept giving pointers as well.

"Blaine, I played a patient on Grey's Anatomy. If you're in pain, you really have to emote it and point to where the pain is. Otherwise, the audience won't know that your feelings are real and intense. And don't look at Carole. An actor should never look at the other actors in a scene. It will distract you from what you've prepared earlier."

Blaine had tried showing his brother exactly how much pain he was in by swinging a crutch at him but had hit and knocked over a lamp instead.

When Kurt was being helped back into his shirt after a bandage change, Cooper had made the mistake of excitedly asking him if he'd been in a gang. With a string of curses and a deadly glare, Kurt had stormed off to the back porch, grabbing the party leftovers from the fridge and a box of cereal along the way, refusing to come out for the rest of the day.

There had been a few good things to come out of his brother's visit. For one, he now had a bank account set up in his name with a $2,000 balance. "It's not much, but I promise to deposit more when I get the chance. I swear, I never touched your trust fund, Blaine." Cooper had also started looking into seeing if there was a way of gaining legal guardianship of him. Having him declared as an emancipated minor was another option the two had discussed. 

As for the clothes Cooper had bought him, Carole had promised to return the majority and purchase garments he actually wanted to wear and in the correct sizes.

Before Cooper left for the airport, he signed a few of the headshots he'd brought with him. Much to Kurt's embarrassment and Carole's delight, he personalized one for each of them. The rest he left generic with the advice of "You could get a good price for those on eBay once my face becomes recognizable worldwide. I gave one to the clinic to use for a fundraiser. Doctor Jones was more than thankful."

Blaine felt a piece of him die inside with that announcement. If he had been mobile, he would have seen his brother to the door himself and deadbolted it behind him. Instead, he was left with the too vivid image that his doctor had seen both him and his brother naked. He really hated Cooper some days.

* * * * * * *

Blaine awoke from a very pleasant dream and snuggled closer to his boyfriend. The early morning light shining through the windows allowed him to see that he wasn't the only one awake and having happy thoughts. He let out a content sigh as Kurt began to stroke him over his pajama pants; his erection growing larger with each touch. "I thought Cooper would never leave. Now we can finally have sex again. Where are the condoms and lube?"

Kurt let out a low moan as his own dick was stroked to full hardness. Trying not to break contact, he shifted so he could capture his boyfriend's mouth in a heated kiss. "I don't know. Everything got moved around thanks to fucking Finn."

Blaine deepened the kiss and moved down Kurt's neck, thankful that his boyfriend's shirt was already unbuttoned and exposing his chest. "I don't want to think about fucking Finn. I want to think about and enjoy you fucking me."

Kurt gasped as attention was lavished on his nipples and alternated between returning the favor and stroking Blaine's cock. "Maybe they're in our room. I'll go up and check."

"You're not going up any stairs, Kurt. I told you how important it was not to put any weight on your hip."

Startled by the sound of his mom's voice, Kurt removed his hand from Blaine's dick. His own quickly deflating, turned into a cockblocked and no longer a happy and turgid manhood. "What are you doing awake?"

"Getting ready for work and apparently giving you boys another Talk."

Kurt tugged at the blankets so that they laid more securely over his and Blaine's bodies. He alternated between glaring at them and the woman standing only two feet away. "I can't believe this is happening again. I know how sex works!"

Carole crossed her arms and let out her own sigh of frustration. "Then you should know that you can use your hands and mouths to stimulate each other. It would be best if you boys refrained from any kind of anal sex for now, both bottoming and topping. Blaine, you need to be careful regarding your spinal nerves. You don't want to stall the healing progress of your tail. Kurt, with the hairline fracture to your hip and your damaged ITB and hamstring, even vigorous grinding could cause further damage. And be careful with your elbow too. I know you like having it out of the sling, but it needs to stay in it as much as possible or you'll make it worse. I'll buy you two some supplies when I go to the store. Do you have a condom and lubricant preference?"

"I'm going to die now. I am literally going to die."

"If your Dad and I haven't from overhearing you two go at it, Kurt, then I'm sure you won't by listening to me tell you to take it easy for awhile."

"The condoms and lubes Doctor Jones and Burt gave us have worked great."

"Thank you, Blaine. If you need anything else, make a list and text me." Carole started to head to the kitchen to make coffee but turned back. "Burt will be up in an hour and Sam will be by later to help you two out. I'm sure you can squeeze in some private time between then. There's lotion and tissues on your nightstand. It should do for now." She tried not to laugh at their muttered groans and cursing. The warnings were real though whether they liked them or not, and she would have The Talk a hundred more times if that's what it took to drive the point home. For now, the mom in her was going to have a bit of a laugh along with her morning coffee and bagel.

* * * * * * *

Carole let out a small cheer when she saw the pile of boxes stacked in the hallway. "Boys? The packages arrived?"

Blaine was the first to answer. "Sam moved them inside. Don't worry, he wouldn't let us touch them."

"What did you get?"

"Something that I should have weeks ago, but they were on backorder. Plenty of human ones available, but goodness forbid anyone local stock hybrid care items. I am so sorry. I really did try." Carole finished hanging up her coat and carried the largest box into the living room. With a pen from the pocket of her nursing scrubs she opened it and pulled out the contents. "Ta da! Folding beside commodes! One for each of you."

"Because having to use bedpans and urinals in the middle of the living room isn't embarrassing enough?"

Carole met her son dry sarcastic tone for dry sarcastic tone. "They're to keep both of you off of your injured legs. Don't tell me you actually thought we didn't know that you keep using the downstairs bathroom?"

"Not every time." 

At least Blaine had the good sense to look guilty when he answered her. Her son just tried to cross his arms more which was hard to do given that both were in slings. A miracle which only Sam could have convinced him to do. Or maybe Burt had come home for lunch and bribed him with coffee. 

She went back into the hallway and retrieved the other boxes, opening them with just as much enthusiasm. "I should have bought these earlier for you boys too, especially you, Blaine given your casts. You need them now too, Kurt."

"Please say they're gourmet cookies and coffee."

Carole removed the items their plastic packaging and held the first item up with a smile. "Back flap pajama pants! There's no need to stand up or move around much. You just slide on the legs, wrap the back flap panels over your buttocks and secure them to the waistband with the Velcro tabs. There's a Velcro closure on the front waistband above the fly too for easier urination. No more reaching around your backs trying to get to the snaps of your pants and underwear. Blaine, the back flaps should better accommodate the sling for your tail. If you don't want to wear the pants though, I also bought long nightshirts." Carole held up another one of the garments. This one in the same deep blue that matched the pants. The lower back is split so it opens up for easier toiletry needs while the front length retains much better modestly than the medical gowns you had to wear at the clinic. If the back is too cumbersome for you, then I can just sew it up out of the way. Won't take more than a few stitches."

"Wow! These look incredible. Thank you, Carole. It's very kind of you."

"You're welcome, Sweetie. Kurt, what about you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. At least the color didn't suck and the fabric didn't appear to be see-through. "Velcro is evil, but I'll try them."

"Great! Let me throw them in the wash and they'll be ready for tonight. I can set up the toilets now if you need to go."

"I'm fine." That, he wasn't ready for. The model on the box demonstrating the device was only happy because she was being paid to be. He wasn't.

"Me too. Sam took care of us right before he left." Unlike Kurt, he was looking forward to trying out the new toilets. Even with the walking cast, it hurt to walk to the bathroom and bedpans were awkward and gross.

"That's nice to hear, Blaine. I'm glad he's working out. Who wants dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm starving! How does some nice fish, rice, and vegetables sound? Or I can make liver and eggs."

Kurt was losing track of how many times he'd side-eyed his mom in the past half hour. "We've been eating a lot of that since we got back. It's beyond suspicious."

"Trying to boost your levels, Kurt. You've been malnourished for so long that it's inferring with your ability to heal and has probably affected your growth as well. You too, Blaine. I know you weren't without for as long as Kurt, but a year can still make a difference."

Blaine adored Carole, but this time her words made him a bit uncomfortable. "Was that a comment about my height?"

Kurt leaned his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and gave him an adoring smile. "I've told you, Blaine, you're only two inches shorter than me and you're perfectly average given your mixed race heritage. Stop letting your brother make you think you're short. You're not. You're perfect sized."

Carole smiled at the gentle kiss her son exchanged with his boyfriend. She was glad they had each other. However, she was also exhausted after a long day at the hospital. Tomorrow would be a double shift, given that she had volunteer hours at the clinic. All she wanted at the moment was to get their care done so she could finally have some time to herself and rest. "Boys, did you decide on dinner? Blaine, I think it's your turn to choose."

"The fish sounds lovely, thank you."

"Perfect. Let me change out of my scrubs and I'll get it started."

* * * * * * *

Having to pee at 4 o'clock in the morning wasn't fair. Everyone was asleep except for him and his stupid bladder. Even his boyfriend was asleep. Asleep and adorable in his nightshirt that had bunched upwards, and nothing else, ready for morning blowjobs or some light groping. That had been the plan for them both, but he hadn't been able to get away with no pants for himself. His parents had looked so eager, so hopeful that they'd finally found and bought adaptive clothing, that he'd agreed to the full set. At least the color of the brushed jersey knit was nice. He was getting really tired of red plaid flannel.

At the increased urging of his bladder, he pushed the blankets off with a sigh and wiggled his way to the edge of the bed close to where his portable toilet was. Both of his arms were in slings, another stupid thing he'd agreed to, but without too much struggle and pain he was able to tug the Velcro straps of his pants free and pull the butt flaps to the front. Knowing he couldn't put much weight on his arms, he tried to restrict his movements to scooting backwards onto the odd chair and only use the side rails as a guide. Too late he realized he hadn't pulled the back of his night shirt apart and it was caught under his butt. He struggled to get it freed and push down the front of his pants at the same time. He really had to go. 

That was the last frustrated and sane thought he had as the chair tipped back and sideways and he felt himself falling, catching his leg on the exposed frame of the bed. The ripping sound was his pants, but the blood that was starting to show through them from definitely from his previously uninjured leg. Pain started to bloom along his lower back.

And then if being tangled in a poo chair on the floor wasn't bad enough, hell opened up and his colon forcibly expelled his dinner. It even smelled like the anchovies and sardines his mom had ground up and spread on the codfish. He struggled to get up, struggled to find some way to get purchase on the plastic sheeting that had been had laid down under the chair. Fate wasn't done with him though and the Velcro tab from his pants snagged on his hand, taking a patch of fur with it as he ripped it away. 

Then the peeing started and he laid there in a puddle of his own waste, trying not to cry as he cursed, and lying to a worried Blaine that he was fine. 

He felt his dad lift him up and carry him to the bathroom where he was placed gently in the tub. As he was undressed and washed clean by his mom he let the tears flow. He was supposed to be safe here. Free from the humiliations he had suffered at the clinic. He was supposed to have some independence. Some control over his own body. He flinched as his genitals were washed clean; soap, warm water, and a washcloth removing the debris and sting of urine. By the time she was done, he couldn't move. He remained limp when he was dried off and wrapped in towels, staring at the titled walls, staring at nothing. He was now just a thing that existed, yet only barely. He couldn't handle being anything else right now.

When at last he was carried back into the living room, he saw the toilet chair had been removed and fresh bedding placed upon the fold out couch. He could only assume he'd tainted it too. As he was tucked in, Blaine pressed up beside him, snuggling close, telling him the same things his parents were. That everything was going to be okay. 

He didn't believe them. The world didn't work that way. Not for long. Not for him. It never had.

* * * * * * *

"Am I being stupid, Blaine? All that talk in the clinic about wanting my layers and I'm back to being Naked Guy."

"Do you want to wear your old clothes?"

Kurt turned his head to see the stack of folded clothing on the shelving unit placed behind the couch. His designer outfits from Canada were buried at the bottom as they were the least practical items to wear with his injuries. Currently, they held just as little appeal as the plaids, denim, and sports team themed hand-me-downs. "Not really. Which I know is messed up. All those years I wanted nothing more than to be covered up and never looked at or touched again. And now the thought of wearing clothes? I don't even want to feel myself take them off. I know this isn't the clinic. I know you, Burt, and Carole are different. I just...I don't know what to do." 

"I think that you should do whatever makes you feel comfortable. Clearly wearing clothes isn't and having some control over your body is."

"It's only been two days and I'm already freezing my bits off half the time. That's not comfortable."

"Then snuggle with me under the blankets. I'll help keep your bits warm." Blaine raised the blanket that was covering himself and gave his most come-hither smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Seeing your body all the time is a perk. That bird print shirt you wear sometimes though? Total turn on." He increased the size of his grin, enjoying that he was able to make his boyfriend smile.

Kurt laughed at Blaine's tease, but it trailed off, ending on a sigh of admiration. "I don't know how you manage to cope with it all."

"I didn't have it as bad." Blaine lowered the blanket. His offer of covered snuggles rejected for more serious things. They'd had this talk before and would again. 

"Blaine, just because you didn't have it for as long doesn't make it worse. Also, you had other traumas I didn't. You're amazing for getting through it at all." Kurt wanted to caress his boyfriend's face and hold him, but with his arms encased in slings and heating pads under his back and hamstring, it was impossible. He had to settle for leaning over and resting his head on his shoulder. 

Blaine didn't think he was coping all that well if he was being honest with himself. He just internalized and hid most of his negative feelings. People liked you better if you were cheerful. At least his parents and friends had seemed to. Out loud he replied, "I have you and therapy."

"Remember when we had book therapy?" 

"I miss those romance novels." Blaine returned his boyfriend's salacious smirk and kissed him. 

Kurt returned the kiss and deepened it, feeling his dick grow and twitch with interest. "I miss the sex we had while reading those novels."

Blaine scooted closer to Kurt, not caring in the least if it dislodged the heating pads on his back and shoulder. This was a far better way to heal, with endorphins and all that. "We should look online and see what we can find. Put some of the money Cooper gave me to good use." 

"Miss Pillsbury did say that I should read more and focus on something to look forward to." Kurt arched his back as Blaine kissed his way down his body. There were some great benefits to being naked. 

"I very much look forward to blowing you." In-between kisses and caresses, Blaine freed Kurt's left arm from its sling and moaned when he felt his erection being freed from his pants. Maybe Kurt had the right idea all along. Clothes just got in the way.

Kurt felt that his boyfriend had the best ideas and the best dick and the best mouth that needed to get on him right now. "My ship is more than willing."

"Permission to come on board and start swabbing your deck with my lustful desires, Captain?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh no matter how turned on he was at the moment. "This is why I love you."

"I love you too." Blaine sank his mouth over Kurt's erection and all ability to form coherent sentences after that were lost. 

* * * * * * *

Miss Pillsbury sat on a kitchen chair that had been placed near Kurt's side of the fold out couch. Home visits weren't her usual routine, but given the extent of her clients' injuries, she had made an exception. Wiping down the chair with a disinfectant wipe and then her hands with sanitizer helped to ease her discomfort. She hated messes and germs. She studied Kurt's body language before deciding to speak. He was completely nude except for a singular blanket pulled up to his waist. His right hand was in a cast and the same arm supported by a sling. His left elbow was wrapped in ACE bandages and also in a sling, similar to how it had been at the clinic. "I see you've covered yourself up. You didn't have to on my account, but I appreciate the courtesy. May I ask why?"

Kurt fidgeted a bit. He hadn't been expecting that question. "You didn't do anything to me. You're just trying to help."

"Burt and Carole informed me that you've been continuously nude in their presence for the past few days. Can you tell me what the difference is between them and me? Have they done something to hurt you? Has either of them touched you in a non-consensual manner? If you need help, Kurt, if you don't feel safe here, there are other families that would take you and Blaine in."

Kurt could feel his eyes grow wide. "What? No! Burt has never touched me inappropriately. He doesn't even look at me there unless I need help with bathroom things and then it's...it's never in a bad way. Same with Carole."

"I'm relieved to hear that. You have my card with my number on it should things change or anyone starts hurting you again. Day or night, Kurt, don't hesitate to call or come by my office if you don't have access to a phone or computer."

"Okay. Thank you." Kurt gave her a small smile. He didn't enjoy his therapy sessions, but he could tell Miss Pillsbury was trying to help. He knew he wasn't exactly an easy case.

"Do you feel up to answering my question? There's no judgment, Kurt. Many people, including teenagers, explore different ways of expressing themselves and figuring out their identities. Others are exploring their sexuality and what it means to be a sexual being in a safe environment. Sometimes it can be a way of achieving a sense of body autonomy and sometimes it can be an act of rebellion. There are many more reasons of course."

"It's not sexual. I mean, when Blaine and I do things it is, but that's different. And I've known for years that I'm gay."

Emma waited patiently, but after minutes had ticked by, she knew she had to try to get Kurt to open up a bit more. "Perhaps you could tell me when this began. Sometimes in highly stressful situations, we act out because the rational part of the brain hasn't kicked in yet. We're aware of our emotions, but can't quite control them." 

Kurt thought for a long moment, unsure how to phrase the feelings swirling around in his brain. "It's like I'm on this ride and I can't get off. Every time I think it's over, it goes out of control again. I just want things to go back to normal even though I don't even know what normal is."

"I'm going to take a guess here, but maybe you felt free, not quite as trapped, when you were homeless and before you got injured?"

Kurt snorted. He couldn't help it. "I got injured a lot of times out there."

"Was it like now?"

"No, of course not. When it was really bad, I'd have to hole up somewhere and think I was going to die. Not like it mattered some days. The worst was when I had to do...things...to score pain meds or food, but that was my choice. Right now, I don't have a better place to go. Carole showed me the scans of the hairline fracture in my hip and pictures of what will happen if it gets worse. I'm trapped on this damn bed for the next month until it heals. It's like being back at the clinic. I know there's more to it. At least I think there is, but I can't figure it out. I'm tired and I just want it all to stop."

Emma looked down at the notes she had taken during the previous session. "I know at the clinic you said you didn't blame your parents for what Finn did to you and Blaine, but do you think you might be a little? I know it's not easy for orphans and foster kids to get used to a new home. Sometimes they act out to see how their caregivers will react." 

"But I was used to it." Kurt rolled his eyes admitted a more honest truth. "I was getting to used to it. Then everything got messed up. I like Burt and Carole and I don't want to hurt them. I was fine with them at the clinic this weekend and then we got back here and..." Kurt looked around the living room and its new additions. It reminded him too much of his hospital room. All it needed was an IV and a couple of monitors. I'm just tired of not having any control. If I walk around the house, even to the damn bathroom, I get yelled at. Not yelled at, but sternly reminded, is what Burt would probably say. I'm told when to eat, when to do those horrible breathing exercises, when to lay down and get ice packs and heating pads put on my body. Carole even told Blaine and I what we were and weren't allowed to do with each other sexually."

"Was there a medical reason for it?"

"There's always a medical reason for it. For everything. I'm trapped in hospital hell and what do I do when Finn comes back over the summer and we don't get along? Are they going to kick me out because having two sons and another kid is too much trouble?" Kurt gasped, his mouth open wide in shock. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Do you think your nudity is a way of acting out or trying to gain some control? I know it can't be easy for you given where you spent the majority of your childhood."

It was that question and statement that made Kurt realize just how naked and vulnerable he was in this moment in front of a near stranger who could reach out and pull his blanket away. He'd only been out of the clinic for a week and didn't have enough strength to fight back. His heart raced as he remembered times at the Reformatory where he hadn't been able to stop the peeling away of his clothes and the touching and words and smells that would follow. "Come for Daddy, Baby." Carole had offered adult incontinence underwear for nighttime use and he'd freaked out, but she hadn't said that. She wasn't a part of that time. 

"Kurt. Kurt. Can you come back to me? I need you to count to ten. I'll help you. One...two..."

He kept his eyes closed, but did as the distant voice requested. He counted to ten slowly and then ten again. When opened his eyes and named the objects around him that he could see and touch and hear. There was a pillow, a chair, a clock that softly ticked, a TV, a window that was part of a house. 

When at last Kurt had his breathing under control, he exhaled long and slow. "If I'm already naked, no one can take off my clothes. That's all I know for certain right now. I don't want to think about the other things. This one is hard enough."

Emma wrote a few things down on her notepad, including the observation that Kurt had to started to fluctuate between calling his adoptive parents Mom and Dad and their given names. She wasn't sure if it was a deliberate or unconscious act and unfortunately didn't have enough time to delve into the matter. "That's fine. I brought some pamphlets with me that I think you might find useful. If you have any thoughts or questions, write them down and we can discuss them in our next session. Or if you feel it's an emergency, you can call me. Just remember, feelings don't take a vacation, do they? They work in twenty four hour shifts. And that's okay. Unfortunately, I don't and our time is almost up. Kurt, I'd like to remind you to try and work on what we discussed in our last session. Try and find something that will bring you some joy. Something you can focus on that doesn't involve your injuries."

Kurt took the small stack of pamphlets and watched as Miss Pillsbury walked away. He tried to ignore the therapist beginning her session with Blaine in the kitchen. Sound traveled and he respected his boyfriend's privacy. He should have thought to ask for earbuds so he could play music on the laptop. Maybe next time. His mom was at work and his dad was outside having claimed that it was the perfect weather to start getting the grill and patio ready for barbecuing. It was forty-four degrees in March and there was still snow on the ground from where the plows had piled it up a few days before. He'd spent months sleeping outside in this kind of weather. There was nothing perfect about it. 

He looked at the first pamphlet and sighed at the title. _Letting It All Hang Out. Is Being a Nudist Right for You?_ The next one wasn't much better. _How to Put the FUN into Being an Orphan_. There was very little that was fun about his life and Miss Pillsbury had surely been stretching for alliteration. _I’m Too Depressed to Even Open this Pamphlet_ and _The A-B-C's of PTSD_ he knew he'd read. Maybe they'd help. The last however pissed him off - _Ending It All: Pros & Cons_. He wasn't suicidal. He just didn't know how to stop feeling so damn helpless and hopeless all the time.

* * * * * * *

Burt sighed in relief when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He muted the TV show he had only been half paying attention to, got up from his lounge chair, put the remote on his son's nightstand, and met his wife at the front door. 

For the past thirty minutes, he had been pretending not to notice Kurt's erection as he laid on the fold out couch, propped up on pillows, pouring over an issue of Vogue, and discussing fashion with a fully clothed Blaine. Kurt had given him the occasional pointed stare from over the top of the magazine, waiting for a reaction, practically daring him to say something. He had pretended not to notice those too. The kid had been refusing to wear a single stitch of clothing for days and the act of rebellion or regaining body autonomy didn't seem to be letting up any time soon. It wasn't the first erection he had sprouted either but was one of the few Kurt had acknowledged instead of pretending didn't exist. Before he had been embarrassed, but now he was clearly defiant. Maybe it was in retaliation for him declaring it was ice pack time the last time it had happened.

At least Kurt didn't touch himself down there except to go the bathroom or scratch the occasional itch. He'd caught the boys making out and groping each other a few times when they thought he was asleep or wouldn't be home yet. That was normal. He didn't remember being that horny as a teenager, but maybe when two guys got together the hormones doubled.

That he could at least understand. He just couldn't fathom what was in a fashion magazine that could evoke such a reaction. He silently asked his wife to join him upstairs and soon they were in the relative privacy of their bedroom.

"Couldn't he, I don't know, put a sock over it or something?"

Carole tried not to laugh at her husband's discomfort. She didn't need to ask what Burt was complaining about. "Erections are normal for boys his age. Anything will set them off. You know that."

"But do we have to see it? It was one thing at the clinic, but in our home?"

"You helped me raise Finn during his teen years."

"Yeah, but he at least kept it to his bedroom and bathroom."

Carole laughed at the memory, "All those long showers and crusty socks. He thought we didn't have a clue."

Burt retrieved a small stack of pamphlets from a nightstand drawer. "I called Miss Pillsbury before the boys' appointment and she gave me some literature for us to read."

Carole took the items offered to her and began to read the tiles one by one. _The A-B-C's of PTSD_ , _When You Want to Kill Your Teenager: Do It with Kindness Instead_ , _Hybrids for Humans: We're Not Cats, You Idiot!_ When she got to the last pamphlet, it was clear this is the one her husband wanted her to see. _So Your Child Is a Nudist: How You Can Help When They Let It All Hang Out_.

"I haven't read much of it yet. I was too embarrassed. I don't know. Maybe it'll help."

Carole folded back the cover depicting the famous nude sculptures, David and the Venus de Milo, and read the opening page out loud. "Helpful Tips:  
* Keep the blinds or curtains drawn to avoid attention from unsavory neighbors and passersby  
* Set up a privacy screen to block the view of the main living areas from delivery persons  
* If you family enjoys foods such as fried eggs, bananas, hot dogs, and novelty cakes, try not to point out how they resemble breasts and genitalia.  
* Do not point out perceived flaws or otherwise comment on your child's appearance  
* Do not call attention to normal biological responses such as flushed skin, hardened nipples, and erections  
* Do support your child and try to understand that there are many reasons they have decided to go au natural."

Carole paused in her read, "Do you want me to continue?"

Burt took off his Browns cap, rubbed his head, and put it back on. "Is later tonight fine with you? It's a lot to take in and I'm going to need a beer."

Carole patted her husband's arm. "Kurt's probably just acting out. It's a phase. We'll get through this, Burt. He needs us to."

"I know. I know. But he was such a quiet, polite, and scared kid when we took him in. He'd barricade the bathroom door whenever he or Blaine was in there. Would watch every move I made even when he wasn't. Now's he's down there, on the couch, stiff as a flag pole, flopping around for all the world to see, and daring me to say somethin' about it. By the way, we're getting a new couch and burning the sheets when all this is over."

Carole shared a exasperated laugh with Burt. "I can't disagree with you there."

"I think I'm going to start cleaning out the garage, maybe the basement too. Get the yard ready for spring."

"Sounds like a perfect plan. I'll join you. We'll dig out those old walkie talkies Finn had so the boys can call us if they need help. Much better than overhearing things none of us want to on a baby monitor." Carole removed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from her bureau, wanting to change out of her scrubs before starting dinner. "So what would you like me to make tonight? Hot dogs? Spaghetti and meatballs? Kielbasa?" 

"You are a cruel, cruel woman."

Carole kissed her husband on the cheek, laughing as she darted away to take a shower. They were going to need some levity on top of patience. And definitely more beer and bleach wipes.

* * * * * * *

"Morning, Sam. Before you come in, there's something I need to tell you about. If you're not okay with it, that's fine. I can call one of the guys to run the shop today and stay home." Burt had met the home health aid at the door. It wasn't going to be an easy thing to talk about, but the kid deserved to be warned and given a chance to back out. "Kurt's taken to not wearing any clothes out of protest or frustration or something. Won't even cover himself up with a blanket unless it gets too cold at night."

Sam shrugged the new information off and gave his client's dad a smile. "Don't worry about it. I have no problem with nudity, Mister Hummel. I've been a model, a stripper, and was even in my school's glee club. We health aids pretty much see it all. People are people and the way I figure it, is that we all came into this world the same way. That doesn't change just because we've gotten older."

Burt clapped the young man on the shoulder, expressing his gratitude in one of the few ways he knew how. "I really appreciate that, Sam. Instructions are on the kitchen table along with the boys' medications. Help yourself to anything in the fridge not labeled with their names and call if you need anything. Carole will be home around three."

"I've got this. You have a good day at work."

"Thanks, Kid." Burt zipped up his coat and left with a sigh. It was going to be nice getting back to work. Engines and tires, he understood. Teenagers? Not so much.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Dude, you've got your hand on the wrong joystick."

Kurt looked down at his lap, a blush rising to his face. He was mortified, but well, it did explain why he had started to enjoy the game a lot more even though he couldn't get his character to move. He repositioned the controller so that it wasn't as close to his dick. It had been a feeble attempt at modesty anyway. He was naked for crying out loud, had been for four days now, two hours of which had been spent with Sam. This wasn't the normal Sam-the-home-heath-aid helping him with personal needs and seeing his bits for a few minutes. This was him, deliberately naked and accidentally starting to jerk himself off in front of someone who wasn't his boyfriend. It was a miracle he wasn't having a panic attack full of flashbacks. 

A death toll sounded as a character died on screen. It was Blaine's. Kurt looked over and saw his boyfriend's dropped jaw and lust-filled eyes fixated on his erection. From the tenting of Blaine's lounge pants, Kurt could tell he wasn't the only one now with two joysticks. "Sorry."

Sam kept his eyes on the TV. This wasn't the first time a client had started to masturbate in front of him, but those others were senile and didn't know what they were doing. From the blush on Kurt's face, he didn't seem to realize what he'd been doing either. Personally, he didn't play video games while naked. Not after ruining a controller by accident. People had their needs though and he wasn't going to ruin the guy's good time. "Not a problem. We're playing games to keep the circulation going in your fingers and arms. Whatever works for you is fine. I can go make myself a sandwich if you wanted to finish up."

Kurt inhaled sharply as he comprehended what the guy meant and ignored Blaine's vigorous nodding and bright smile. "No, I'm good. We can keep playing video games. Isn't it close to ice pack time? I sure could use a few on my leg and hip and other places."

"Sure thing." Sam looked at his watch, paused the game, and got up to retrieve the necessary supplies. He liked this gig. Kurt may have been bristly at first, but that was fine. It took awhile for some people to admit they needed help and be okay with accepting it. He liked Kurt's sarcastic sense of humor and he and Blaine had a lot in common. He bet they'd have been great friends if they'd gone to high school together.

* * * * * * *

"Happy Easter!"

Kurt blinked his eyes open, half closing them to block out the brightness of the evil sun shining through the living room windows. Blaine wasn't fairing much better and had made the mistake of trying to rub his eyes with his cast-covered hand. The clock on the wall told him it was definitely too early to be awake for crazy parents wearing bunny ears and too-big smiles. Maybe he was dreaming.

A tray was placed on his lap and on it was a plate with cinnamon rolls formed in what he assumed was supposed to be a bunny's face. It was a very Mom Thing. The cup of coffee was obviously from his dad. Fortunately, there was enough ease in his left sling that he was able to drink his coffee without help. He had a feeling he was going to need a lot of coffee this morning.

"Kurt, look, Easter eggs!"

Kurt looked towards where Blaine was pointing and there were indeed plastic eggs on the bed, on the TV stand, peaking of out between medical supplies. There was even one resting on the arm of Blaine's bedside commode. 

Carole held up two plastic, Easter themed buckets. "It's an Easter egg hunt! You boys take turns saying where you see an egg and we'll collect them for you. You don't have to have to move."

"Am I five, Blaine? Is this some weird time loop thing and I'm suddenly five again?"

"I bet you were adorable at five."

"Come on, boys, it'll be fun! There are prizes inside."

He had a vague memory of doing this with his mom once and his new mom looked so eager and happy. It actually did look like fun. He took another sip of his coffee and caved. "The yellow one on the windowsill."

"Ooh, good eye!" Carole went and retrieved the egg, then added it to Kurt's bucket.

"Blaine, you're next." Burt took the other bucket and held it up. He'd thought the idea was a bit juvenile at first, but in the end had agreed with his wife that the kids, particularly Kurt, had probably never had much in the way of holidays. The planning and execution had been kind of fun. He could see the grin Kurt was trying to hide. Blaine was all open smiles and practically bouncing in place.

"The blue one by the X-Box."

"Kurt?"

"This purple one between Blaine and I. How did I not wake up for that?"

"The Easter Bunny has his secret ways."

"The Easter Bunny has been smoking too much of his own grass." Kurt liked that his family laughed at his sarcastic joke and took a bite of his cinnamon roll. Aside from that failed fish night, Carole really did know how to appeal to his stomach.

When all of the eggs were found, the breakfast trays were removed and replaced with the buckets. Kurt was glad he'd slept under the covers last night when his mom sat beside him and helped him open his eggs, the same as his dad was doing for Blaine. His eyes went wide when the first one was opened and he saw a five dollar bill. "There's money inside?"

"We used to do candy, but when Finn got older, he appreciated the money more."

Burt laughed at Kurt's eagerness to open the next one. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Kid. Five is as high as they go and there aren't that many of them."

"I'll take anything! Blaine, what did you get?"

"Fifty cents in the new quarters." Blaine widened his smile and reached for another egg. "This is really nice. My parents never did anything like this. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sweetie."

"A dollar! I'm winning! I'm winning!" Kurt instantly regretted shimming. Broken ribs fucking hurt.

"Ten dollars!"

"No fair. Dad, you said there were only fives."

"I may have run out and wanted to treat the boys, Burt." Carole bit her lip at her confession.

"Hurry up, boys. There's more."

"More? I love the idea of more!" 

Burt chuckled at his kid's lit up eyes. This had definitely been worth all the work. It only took about ten minutes for the rest of the eggs to be opened. In the end, Blaine had found $13.25 and Kurt $26.75. "Where do you want me to put your money, boys?"

"In my wallet would be great, thank you. It's in my nightstand drawer."

"Kurt?"

"Sealed in a baggie and then tucked inside my Lou Eyrich shirt."

"Your what?"

"The blue and green one Aunts Anne and Dani gave me."

"Sure thing, Bud." Burt did as asked as his wife put aside the baskets and brought out the next surprise. 

Blaine stared at the pastel woven baskets wrapped in cellophane. "Kurt! Kurt! Cookies and white chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps. Oh, I miss those."

"I've never had them before." Kurt turned his basket around peering intently inside before opening it. He was pretty sure there was a stuffed rabbit among all the candy. 

"Trust me, you're going to love them! And if you don't, more for me!"

Burt adjusted the cap on his head and prepared himself for the not so fun part. "While you boys get your sugar buzz on, I'm going get your medical stuff ready and Carole's going to start dinner."

Kurt groaned at what "medical stuff" meant. He should have known he wouldn't be able to get out breathing exercises, bandage check, and ice pack time. At least he still had some coffee left to take his Advil with. "I'm fine with eating nothing but sugar. Unless there's Easter cheesecake. Is there cheesecake?"

"Maybe." 

Kurt laughed at his mom's muttered, "I knew I forgot something last night. Better make it first."

An hour later, Kurt knew three new things. One, he loved Peeps. Two, he hated jelly beans. And three, his boyfriend had absolutely no flare for dirty Easter jokes.

"Is that a carrot in your basket or are you just really happy to see me?"

Kurt looked down at his exposed bits. At the first mention of medical stuff, he'd kicked off his blanket and was now as naked as...well...the Easter Bunny. "Pretty sure, the bunny is asleep in the grass."

"I want to pet your bunny and wake him up. I want to sit on your lap and hop like an Easter Bunny eager for carrots."

"Blaine!"

"The white chocolate was great, but there's a different rabbit ear I'd rather nibble on."

"Boys, we have ears too. Save it for later."

"I told you they could hear us, Blaine!" Kurt watched as his sleeping rabbit sunk lower into the grass. There would clearly be no chance for it to hop anytime soon. And now he had his boyfriend's bad puns stuck in his head. 

"I was funny though, right?"

"Yes, you were funny."

Dinner was honey glazed ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, hashbrown casserole, and rolls with butter. Kurt forced himself to take a bite of the meat and smile and nod his head when his mom asked if he liked it. He swallowed it down with half a glass of water and snuck the rest under his plate and napkin. If his parents hadn't been in the room, he'd have given his portion to Blaine. There was just something about the texture that revolted him. It wasn't like the other times when it was eat or starve. There were different foods available and at present, he wasn't homeless. The potatoes, casseroles, and roll had been great and those he finished. Dessert was promised later, once it was set.

After the leftovers had been put away, bathroom needs taken care of, and a half hour of enjoying the soothing warmth of heating pads, it was time to dye Easter eggs. "Just this once" Carole allowed Kurt to walk into the kitchen and seat himself at the table. There was a debate over whether or not Blaine should be wheeled in on the one wheelchair they'd been able to acquire or allowed to walk with help. In the end, they settled for wheeled and then transferred to a chair beside Kurt's in order to be closer to the table.

Honestly, Kurt thought it was too much fuss for an activity until he started the dying process. Then it became a creative adventure and he finally understood the appeal. It was so much fun that his mom boiled the dozen eggs she was reserving for other meals while his dad quipped that they were all going to be eating a lot of egg salad sandwiches that week. 

With a happy sigh, he leaned into Blaine's hug as they sat side by side, admiring each other's work and discussing the best pairings of colors. He liked that his parents had joined in too, telling stories of when they had done this as kids and the time a young Finn had drank "yummy green water, Mommy."

When the eggs were put to dry, Kurt headed back to the living room. He heard a muffled laugh and turned around, noticing that each member of his family was staring at his butt. There, in stark blue and green were the fingerprints of his handsy boyfriend. With a roll of his eyes, he turned away from the looks, and continued walking. Secretly, he thought it was as funny as they did. Still, he thanked every god he didn't believe in, that Blaine had some restraint and there didn't seem to be any handprints on his dick. 

Later that night, stomach filled with cheesecake, he snuggled under the quilts with his boyfriend and his new stuffed rabbit, Mister Bun Bun. It had been a really good day. 

* * * * * * *

After Miss Pillsbury had left, Blaine returned to their shared living room bed and his dad started dinner, Kurt pulled out his stack of new pamphlets. "Ready to compare?"

Blaine held up his own pile of colorful brochures. It was a thing they'd started doing after therapy. A way to relieve stress and shake off the press of heavy feelings the sessions always brought up.

"I got _The A-B-C's of PTSD - revised edition_ and _Panic Attacks: The Red Alert in Your Brain_. Your turn." 

"I have those too. How about, _So You're Poor Now_ , _Bastard Child: When Mommy & Daddy Cheat_, _Why Your Parents Never Loved You_ , and _Dad Loves Him More: When You're Not the Favorite Child_."

"Harsh much?" Kurt flattened his ears when flipped to the next one. _Hiding Your Nuts: Are You an Anorexic Squirrel?_ Oh my god, do Carole and Burt tell her everything? I hate ham. I'd rather eat mice than ham."

"If it makes you feel any better, she gave me _So You Like Throwing Up: Understanding and Overcoming Bulimia_." At Kurt inquisitive look, he continued. "I started having flashbacks to when I had to drink spoiled milk."

"Is that why you've been faking being asleep every time we're given cereal for breakfast?"

Blaine nodded his head and counted to ten as he let out a slow breath.

"It's okay. I've been there. Do you have any funny ones?"

Blaine looked through the rest of his stack. _I Can't Stop Touching My Boyfriend_ and for some reason _Radon the Silent Killer_."

"That dye is never going to wash off my ass, but I don't mind at all how it got there." Kurt liked that his joke and wink made his boyfriend smile. Mondays were always the roughest. " _Proper Wiping: Easy As 1-2-3_. And apparently, trying to hide my involuntary erections got me this one - _I Can't Stop Touching Myself_. Guess it's morning wood for all to see now."

"I love seeing your dick."

"Hence why you got the pamphlet you did."

"You said you didn't mind."

"I don't." Kurt shared a kiss with Blaine before turning back to the pile laying on his very much erection free lap. "Speed round to get the rest over with. _Even Jailbirds Sing: Finding Joy During & After Incarceration_."

" _Overcoming the Bad Touch_."

"I got that one too."

" _Pushing Buttons: Your Parents Are Not an Elevator_."

" _Hiding Your Feelings Under a Bushel_. That's it for me."

"Me too. Bad reality TV time?" Kurt reached for the remote on his nightstand.

"You read my mind." Blaine snuggled into his boyfriend as best could, wrapping his arm around him, trying to be careful where the weight of the cast fell lest it hurt Kurt's broken ribs. They were both broken in so many places. He was glad he didn't have to go through it all alone.

* * * * * * *

Kurt didn't even try to fight going to the clinic for a check up. He knew it was as inevitable as having to eventually put on clothes. The minute he was in the exam room though, it was sweatpants, hoodie, and shoes off and lying on the bed waiting for the, also inevitable, first person to come and say they needed to touch his body. 

The taking of his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse-ox came first, followed by urine and blood tests. His dick was cleaned with an antiseptic wipe before the piss flowed into a cup. At least this time he was allowed to clean and hold it himself. He hated it when a nurse did it for him. The flashbacks were always bad then. 

After the samples were taken it was more waiting. More pretending that the doctor wasn't going to come in, touch him all over, move his limbs until they hurt, and then say, "We're going to run some tests now and I'll check on you later." He knew the script by heart. This time, he didn't even have the comfort of Blaine being in the next curtained off exam room or one of his parents sitting by his bedside. Blaine was three spaces down and because his mom hadn't been able to take off of work, his dad was going back and forth between them, trying to be in both places at once.

Eventually, the humiliating and violating examination was done. Doctor Jones had insisted on checking his genitals, not believing until she did so, that the spots of bright red on his abdomen and testicles and blue blotches on his butt were dye from coloring Easter eggs. Being Naked Guy at home definitely had its unexpected downsides. 

The orderly that wheeled him down to the X-ray and CAT scan rooms turned out to be Coach Beiste who was volunteering on his day off. The man hadn't minded that he was naked and only said something about "you can't wrap a hog in a blanket and call it a burrito, Pumpkin." He had no idea what that meant, but as the guy was smiling, he assumed it was acceptance of his rebellious act and struggle to maintain a sense of self.

The techs were staff he was familiar with. There was the human male one who always moved him to the point of pain, ignoring the obviously better qualified hybrid female who would tell him to stop and let her do it because hybrid anatomy and range of motion were different. The sexist douche, of course, ignored her. This too had been repeated every time he was here. He had never learned their real names. To him they were Idiot Jackass and Intelligent Jill. 

When the tests were done, it was supplement time. Or so they thought. With no one around to force him to drink the can of Boost, he poured the contents bit by bit into every hidden spot he could find. The exam table itself wasn't very absorbent and it was too noticeable when the protective paper cover was wet. However, the stack of cloth medical gowns in the drawer underneath was able to absorb a fair amount. The rest he divided between the crevice behind the storage unit and wall, the sharps disposal box, and under the liner of the trash can. It had hurt his leg and shoulder to move that much, but the payoff of not having to drink liquefied fish shit had been worth it.

He had just fallen asleep when his dad came to check on him and let him know that Blaine was fine. He nodded his thanks and closed his eyes, trying to get back to the dream of where he was in a dewy meadow with Taylor Lautner. 

The happy feeling wore off quickly when Doctor Jones returned and said that his left arm would be stuck in the sling for another week. The fall hadn't been good for his elbow, nor his back, nor his damn hip. Additional nutritional supplements also seemed to be in his future. The only good thing was that the cut on his leg was healing well.

Eventually, he was cleared to leave the hellish prison and allowed his dad to help him get dressed and situated in the wheelchair. His dad didn't talk much, nor force him to, only saying that he too hated hospitals and that things would surely look up eventually. 

They joined Blaine in the cafeteria that had been returned to its normal state. His boyfriend introduced him to Millie Rose, who had been one of the lunch ladies at Dalton after getting laid off at McKinley and now worked part time at the clinic. He remembered Blaine telling him about the women who would pack up food for the students who wanted to run away. It turned out this Millie was the same one who owned the hybrid store and was just as pleasant and cheerful as her daughter. She encouraged them both to drop by when they were feeling better. Honestly, he could admit that he was tempted. It would be nice to get out of the house and go some place that wasn't depressing and filled with pain. He'd have to meet new people, but maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it. 

* * * * * * *

"Uh, Blaine, Sam's here to see you." 

"What? I didn't think we needed him today."

"He's here in a different capacity." Burt rubbed his face and let the young man in. He had a feeling he was going to need a beer and headed to the fridge to get one.

Sam strode into the living room, his tight red suit with a lightning bolt emblem on the chest leaving little to the imagination. He wore a mask covering his eyes, but the wide-mouth grin, blonde hair, and voice were unmistakable. He handed Blaine a box wrapped in superhero themed paper and a bunch of multicolored balloons. He pulled a note card out of an invisible pocket and read it out loud. "Happy seventeenth birthday, Little Bro. I got you a present both you and your boyfriend could enjoy. Cheers! Cooper." Sam hit play on his iPod and began to dance.

Kurt pulled a blanket over his and Blaine's laps as discretely as he could. He'd seen Sam's moves before and had a feeling this was going to be embarrassingly good.

Blaine stared transfixed as Sam rolled his abs and began peeling away parts of his costume. He leaned in close to Kurt and whispered, "Why do I have a sudden urge to write Flash male on male fanfiction?"

"I think that's an excellent idea." Kurt never thought he had a thing for superheroes, but a shirtless one gyrating in front of him had changed his mind.

Blaine's breath hitched as Sam removed his pants with a flourish, revealing skimpy tight red briefs that left nothing to the imagination. This was the best birthday ever!

When the music stopped, so did Sam. He grinned at his audience's pleased faces as he put back on the rest of his costume. "Happy birthday, Blaine. I'm glad you enjoyed it. The superhero theme is a new thing I've been working on for the club gigs."

"It was excellent. Thank you."

"Sorry to cut this short, but I've got to get to class. Do you mind if I change in your bathroom? The professor got mad the last time I showed up in one of my costumes." Happy that the guys agreed, he changed and then waved a cheerful goodbye as he left.

Watching Sam leave and replaying his performance over in his head for the fourth time, Kurt half turned to his boyfriend. "Blaine, you need to have more birthdays."

Just as Blaine was about to agree in pleasurable and enthusiastic ways, Burt walked in.

"Hey, Kid. I didn't know it was your birthday. You should have said something."

"It's fine. I never really celebrated them and last year's was pretty crappy, so I wasn't going to say anything."

"All the more reason to get some happy memories attached to it and erase the bad. Isn't that what Miss Pillsbury says?"

Personally, Blaine didn't think it applied to all cases, but he didn't feel like disagreeing with the man. From the look on Kurt's face, he didn't either. He decided to change the subject by opening up his present. He gasped at what he saw. "My childhood bowties! I thought these were lost forever. And Mister Fluffy, my stuffed dog. Cooper must have found them in the garage."

"Look, there's a note."

Blaine reached into the box and pulled out a folded piece of paper that had been placed on top of an official looking envelope. "'Dear Squirt, seems Mom kept some of your stuff after all. I rescued it from the attic. Hope you like it. Also, you can now call me Dad.' He signed it with a winky face." He shook his head. Cooper was getting weirder by the day. He opened up the envelope and inside were copies of official court documents. "It says here that Coop is now my temporary legal guardian."

"What? How? That fast and without you going to court?"

Blaine read the papers again. They didn't look forged and the signatures and embossed seal seamed real. Satisfied, but still in shock, he carefully folded them back up and returned them to the envelope. "Knowing Cooper, he slept with Judge Judy."

It was hours later before they were left alone. Burt had made a see-through excuse about needing to buy milk and brought home pizza and a store bought cake. Carole arrived shortly thereafter with a gift wrapped white polo shirt and white sweater vest with black and yellow stripes at the collar. Everyone sang Happy Birthday as Blaine blew out the candles on the cake. Then Burt and Carole had apologized profusely for needing to leave for the bowling alley. It was date night and they were meeting up with friends.

Kurt leaned in to Blaine and kissed him deeply. "Finally, I can give you my birthday present."

"And what would that be?" Blaine tried to contain his smile, but failed.

"I want you to ride me like a birthday pony." Kurt blanched as the words replayed in his head. "That didn't sound right, did it?"

"It was a little creepy. I love your idea though. What about your hip?"

"I'll be fine if I'm laying down. What about your tail and leg?"

"Healing just fine." Blaine was glad that Kurt was already naked and hastened to make himself equally so. Kurt may have hated the adaptive clothing, but he had found it useful and easy to get out of. "Condoms and lube?"

Kurt helped his boyfriend remove his clothing and if he happened to feel him up with his hands and mouth in the process, it was so much the better for all of them. He took a breathy pause in order to answer, "Under the pillows."

"You sneaky bastard. God, I love you." With a clumsy hand and the part of his brain not focused on his dick, he managed to retrieve the necessary supplies.

"I love you too." Kurt flipped the cap of the lube open, squeezed some onto his fingers, and started opening Blaine up. It had been too long for both of them. 

Blaine moaned with each new touch and returned the pleasures in kind. "This is definitely going to be the best birthday ever!"

* * * * * * *

Burt scooped up a spoonful of his beans and gestured with it towards his son's still full bowl. "Kurt, come on, you've got to eat."

Kurt took a sip of his water and gave a weak smile, trying for a breezy, lighthearted tone. "I'm not hungry."

"I know you are. Breakfast was hours ago and you and Blaine slept through lunch."

"I'm fine."

"Take a bite and I'm sure your stomach will feel different once it's had something in it."

"I can't eat this." Kurt nudged at his bowl and plate, trying to move them away without his dad noticing. 

Burt pushed the dinnerware back and added another slice of cornbread to the plate. He wasn't going to let good food go to waste and Blaine was eating it just fine so he knew there was nothing wrong with it. "Miss Pillsbury said it was important to start establishing some normal routines that don't involve medical stuff, so we're having Friday night dinner together in the kitchen away from all of that. I know soup beans 'n cornbread isn't fancy, but your mom is at work and this is one of the few meals I know how to cook. I made sure everything in it was hybrid safe."

Kurt glared at the food and then closed his eyes, unable to stand looking at it any longer and wishing he could shut off his sense of smell too. "I don't like it."

"It's the same recipe I've been givin' you ever since you were livin' in the back yard in that shelter I made you."

"I gave my portions to Blaine." Kurt looked at his boyfriend silently pleading with him not to say anything.

This whole thing was getting ridiculous. The kid had lived off of mice and garbage scraps for almost two years. He was nearly as skinny now as he was when he first became a part of the family and it was affecting his health. "It's this and then a can of Boost. You've got to keep your strength up if you want to get better."

Kurt shook his head and his voice came out as a pleading whisper. "Please don't make me."

It had been a long day and Burt wasn't in the mood to deal with a stubborn kid, who despite his background, was wasting perfectly good food. "Kurt. Eat!"

Kurt jumped at the harsh voice. He fought hard to keep the flood of memories at bay, but they rushed in, leaving him shaking as he spooned bite after bite into his mouth, swallowing in gasps just so he could breathe. It was when the bowl was nearly empty that he felt the bile rush up, bringing with it the contents of his stomach. 

Ignoring his dad's and Blaine's offers of help, he pushed away from the table, and limped to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him. He was covered in puke. Clumps of white beans and mushy cornbread bits clung to his naked body while the liquids dripped down, finding new paths to take against his skin and fur. He struggled out of the slings and bandage wrapped around his elbow.

Opening the door to the cabinet under the sink only revealed toilet paper and not the plastic wrap he needed. Frustrated and trying to keep his swirling emotions to himself, he headed for the kitchen. His dad blocked his way before he'd even gone a few steps.

"You looking for the wrap? Go sit down and I'll bring it to you." It only took minutes before he was back, knocking on the bathroom door before entering. The kid was a shaking wreck and he couldn't figure out why. "I can't help you, Son, unless you talk me. I'm sorry for forcing you to eat. Are you sick or something? You want me to call your mom?"

Kurt shook his head and fought back tears. "Eight years. I can't eat it anymore."

"This is what they fed you at the Reformatory?"

Kurt nodded and tried not to puke again at the remembered tastes and smells. "It was eat it or starve and they'd serve it for days, a week, more. So you didn't have a choice, not really. Half the time it was spoiled and moldy."

"Aww, Kiddo, you have said somethin' earlier."

A sob escaped from his burning throat. "I tried."

"I meant months ago. I thought you were just bein' stubborn tonight and I'm real sorry." Burt sighed, wanting to reach out and comfort his son, but knowing that any touching right now could send him into another panic attack. "How do you want me to help? Want me to wrap up your hand and get the shower or bath runnin' for you?"

Kurt stared at the tub and considered his options. "Shower. I'll use the special chair Mom put in there so I won't have to stand." He looked at his dad and the worry on his face. He wasn't in trouble and wasn't going to be hurt. "Can you stay to help? I don't know how to get my left arm clean without using my right hand and there's puke everywhere. I just want to get clean and go to bed."

"Sure thing, Kurt. Let me tell Blaine what happened so he doesn't try crawling in here. He's sick with worry."

"Sorry."

"I told you, Bud. I'm the one who's sorry. I'll be right back." Burt closed the door behind himself and rubbed his eyes. How many more ways was he going to discover how that place had screwed the kid over? How many more times was he going to fuck up as a parent? He was trying. He'd taken the therapist's advice, reading the pamphlets, letting the kid be naked all the time, and getting him the books he wanted from the public library, but some days he just couldn't get it right. Months ago he'd told Kurt that there were times where it was going to be two steps forward and one step back. That bit of wisdom apparently applied to himself too. 

* * * * * * *

Kurt hugged the pillow to his chest and took a deep breath. He hated the breathing exercises, but liked that he was being trusted to do them on his own while his mom helped Blaine take a shower. He hadn't had time alone to himself in days and wanted to think.

Therapy had started with Miss Pillsbury saying, "So, I see you're still naked" and had dissolved from there. When he told her about the soup beans incident, she'd handed him a pamphlet entitled, _Putting the Fun Back in Food_. There had been nothing fun about the Reformatory and he didn't understand why it wasn't okay to avoid the foods that reminded him of that place.

He brought up his mixed feelings about Easter - loving what Carole and Burt had done for him and Blaine, but being sad because he couldn't remember doing any of those things with his mom. He didn't know if hunting for plastic eggs once was a real memory or one he'd created as he didn't remember anything else about the holiday. He didn't know if it was because they were Jewish or too poor or some other reason. He didn't think they had been religious, but his memories were so blurred from that time, marred by the trauma that had happened when he'd been arrested. Mentioning that had brought on a panic attack which left him trembling and exhausted. Being nude all the time had the disadvantage of reminding him of his branding and the other scars that marked his body. 

By the time he'd come down from the panic attack, the session was nearly over. He only had a few minutes to tell her that Finn would be home for the summer in a few weeks. His "homework" was to write down his feelings on that as well as positive actions he could take if he found himself in a disagreement with his new brother. Personally, he felt that his ideas of positive actions would be vastly different than what Miss Pillsbury had in mind. 

The timer on his nightstand beeped and he let out the last deep breath. He held on to the pillow and pulled Mister Bun Bun to him. Maybe it was stupid to be his age and clinging to a stuffed toy, but he needed it right now. He needed his mom too, but that dream had died long ago.

* * * * * * *

"Kurt, Blaine, can we see you in the kitchen for a minute?"

Kurt paled at the sound of his dad's voice. There hadn't been time for them to put away the step ladder and make it back to the couch when they heard the back door being unlocked. "Blaine ate your secret stash of cookies, not me!"

Blaine gasped at the betrayal. "Tattletale! It's not like you didn't help."

"I am not going to get in trouble for that one, Blaine. Those cookies taste weird. If you're going to get in trouble for eating someone else's food, then at least go for the snack cakes Mom keeps in the bottom cabinet behind the stew pot." Kurt pursed his lips and picked up one of the empty cellophane tubes that his boyfriend had hidden under the blankets between them. Pale yellow crumbs fell out and as he tried to brush them away, he knew he'd never get them all. Cookie bits were going to end up in some very uncomfortable places.

"If you're telling on me for those, then I'm going to tell on you for eating up all the pepperoni rolls. You didn't even share!"

"No one's in trouble and no one's going to be unless you two keep talking. Just come to the kitchen, Kurt. You too, Blaine."

His mom's voice was too cheerful. She'd worked the early morning shift at the hospital, then a few hours at the clinic, only to come home and quickly go back out to run some errands. No one would be happy after all of that. "Is this a trick? I'm not supposed to be walking, remember?"

"And yet clearly you have been."

Kurt could hear his dad's sigh of exasperation. "For the love of god, Kurt, get your butt in here! Blaine, would you like some help?"

"No, thank you. I can manage."

Wary, but curious, Kurt limped along at Blaine's slower pace, ready to support him should the crutches become too hard or exhausting to use given that they'd just made the same walk a short time before. It was going to be another four weeks before the casts came off his leg and wrist. He thought of some new curses for Finn causing the bones needing to be reset and starting the timer on the healing process back to zero. 

As Kurt crossed the threshold of the kitchen, he gasped in surprise at the decorations hanging from every surface. There were balloons, crepe paper, and two banners. One reading, "Welcome Home" and the other, "Welcome to the Family, Kurt." He barely had time to notice the candle-topped cheesecake on the table before he was blinded with the flashes of light from his parents' cell phone cameras. He really hoped they were getting above the waist shots. When he recalled this day later, he was going to pretend he had been wearing pants.

"What's all this?" Stunned, he helped Blaine into a chair, sharing an equally confused look between them.

"Open the box! Open the box!"

Kurt pulled back the flaps of the mailing box, noticing that it came from Canada and had clearly been opened already. He pulled out a thick black, yellow, and white booklet with "University of Waterloo" on it. He pulled out another, this one black, red, and white with "York University" printed on the cover. "You want me to go to college in Canada?"

Carole shrugged. She knew the viewbooks might confuse her son, but she'd forgotten to buy wrapping paper and bringing it up from the basement would have been too obvious. "Only if you want to. It's how your aunts hid your true present. Look in the box again."

Kurt did as asked, this time removing a stack of documents. He stared dumbfounded at the first one. It was a birth certificate. "This says I was born in Toronto. Was I? I always thought I'd been born in Ohio."

"We don't actually know, Son. Keep going."

Still as confused as before, he continued. "Adoption papers where you became my parents when I was fourteen years old. It says I was orphaned at four."

Burt rubbed his head. He regretted that part. "We're sorry for erasing two years of your life with your mom, Bud, but it was easier this way."

"What was?"

"One more, Kurt. Look at what's left in your hand."

Kurt looked at the navy blue item emblazoned with a coat of arms and the words "CANADA" at the top and "PASSPORT PASSEPORT" below. He opened the document and stared at a picture of himself, a headshot where it looked like he was wearing one of the shirts Aunts Anne and Dani had given him. He looked at the name printed beside it. "Kurt Hummel. It says my name is Kurt Hummel."

"We kept your original last name as your middle one. Hope that was okay." Burt adjusted his cap again, not knowing what else to do with his hands. He didn't know who was more nervous, himself or his wife. The decisions and sacrifices they'd had to make to get to this point had been hard. He hoped they'd been worth it.

Kurt stared at the documents and then at the two people who had become his parents. His breaths became quicker with each passing second. He didn't want to get his hopes up, he really didn't, but he needed to know if it was what he wanted it to be. "What does all of this mean?"

Carole rung her hands, excited and worried and hopeful all at the same time. They'd been working for months on this. Her answer came out in a rush. "It means that through some very expensive forgeries, you are now illegally-legally our adopted son and a citizen of Canada. I wouldn't try voting with it and Dani isn't quite sure about getting you on the national health care if you move up there, but it should get you through customs and pass a simple ID check both here in the U.S. and Canada."

"Why Canada?" He didn't have a problem with the country and liked all the stereotypes as much as the next naive American. He was just curious as to why not Great Britain or Ireland or Iceland for all that it would matter. The not United States part he could guess at pretty easily.

Carole continued her explanation and knew there'd be more to give later. "Because hybrids don't have legal status here, not much of one anyway, and if things keep getting worse, we wanted you protected. Anne and Dani said it was better this way. No one would immediately think to look up Kurt Hummel from Toronto and compare him with a Kurt Elizabeth from Ohio. As far as anyone is concerned, your mom was a Canadian citizen who died when you were young. You were bounced around from relative to relative for years which is why most of your school and medical records are lost. We adopted you at fourteen."

"I'm almost seventeen."

Burt picked up where his wife left off. Kurt looked confused while Blaine, who'd been sitting at the table quietly, was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep back a hopeful grin. "Yeah, but you look younger. On the paperwork, you're your real age, but if the neighbors get nosy about the kid that's been living here for awhile, we'll play you off as younger and say the adoption was recent. I know it's confusing and probably overly complicated, but your mom and aunts assured me that this was all for the best. Better to have back-up plans and stories in place so no one associates you with _that place_."

Kurt blanched at the reminder. "What about my ear?"

Carole beamed at her son and waved the matter off. "You know how kids are. They get a hold of scissors, think they can play hair dresser, and the next thing you know, they're in the emergency room with freaked out parents asking if the bit of ear, finger, or tail can be reattached. It happens more often than you think to both humans and hybrids. I'd wear a hat when outside though just to be safe."

Burt put an arm around his wife and asked the question they had once before and praying for the same answer again. "So what do you say, Kiddo, want to be a Hummel?"

Kurt wiped away the tears he could feel forming in his eyes and took in his parents' hopeful and equally watery smiles. "I'd love to."

* * * * * * *

Kurt had been happy. For an entire fifteen days, he been really and truly happy. Happy to the point he'd even started to wear clothing some days, or at least enough to cover up his bits and keep him warm throughout the chilly nights. It was easier to now that his mom had declared his elbow healed well enough to remove the sling and ACE bandage. She'd still cautioned him to go easy on it and would check it and ice it from time to time just to be sure. Just to be, as she put it, nurse motherly.

And that was what had made him happy. He had an illegally-legal mom and dad. A half dozen times a day, he'd go and stare at the documents - at his birth certificate, at his adoption papers, at his passport. He was Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, born May 27, 2001 to Elizabeth Connor, father unknown, a homebirth assisted by a midwife. His name was changed at fourteen when he had been adopted by a couple from "the States." If he was Canadian now, he needed to get the lingo right. Carole Hudson-Hummel and Burt Hummel, friends of one of the distant relatives he had been living with for a short time, had agreed to take him on. They'd always wanted to have more children, but not the exhaustion of the messy and sleep deprived infant through toddler years. He'd made that last part up himself.

He was fluent in French, or would be eventually if he studied hard enough, same as most Canadians. As soon as he was more mobile, he was going to learn how to make poutine. It looked delicious. In the meantime, he was learning the words to the national anthem, Canadian history and politics, and practicing his Ontarian accent. If he had lived in Canada since he was fourteen, he would have kept a lot of it. 

He had hopes and dreams again that he shared each night with his boyfriend. His boyfriend who also now had hopes and dreams and new parents. Or rather a brother who would call once a week and try to get Blaine to call him Dad, Father, Athair, or Papá. Blaine always refused of course. 

Then Friday, April 26th came. A clinic day and those were never fun. Kurt dressed in the same outfit he'd worn the last time: light gray sweatpants, a charcoal gray hoodie, and a cheap pair of tennis shoes. No underwear, no undershirt, no socks. The less to remove and put back on the better.

He sat and laid naked on the examination bed as they took his vitals, his blood, his pee, pictures of his innermost areas, and his sense of dignity and control. While his initial exam was by Doctor Carl, his orthopedic one was by a guy he didn't recall but claimed to have been the surgeon who had worked on his shoulder and put the cast on his wrist.

At his mom's urging and logical, "If the doctor removes your cast today do you really want bits landing on your bits, Kurt?" he'd agreed to put on a medical gown. 

He was glad he had. The man wasn't pervy per say, but he was a bit off. Tall, mid 70's, fur turned to gray and thinning around his face and head - the type every show about doctors had at least one of. 

The doctor entered the curtained off area, set down the large envelope he'd brought with him, and picked up the chart that had been placed on the counter next to the examination bed. He skimmed the pages and then looked at the boy sitting up on the table. "Good morning..." He turned back to the chart and found the patient's name, "Kurt, is it? I have your X-rays and CAT scans here and things are looking good, but I'm going to have a direct look myself." He glanced at the human woman in the room. Too many of the staff here were human, but she would have to do. "Nurse, if you could, remove the patient's sling and gown."

Kurt tensed immediately. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His mom had promised. "Doctor Carl already examined me."

"And now I will. After all, I am the one who repaired your hand and shoulder, not him. Nurse."

Kurt kept his eyes fixated on his mom and counted to ten in his head and then ten again as felt the coverings being removed, grateful for the small courtesy of having the gown pooled in his lap. The minute he was disrobed, the doctor started moving his arm, testing the muscles and joints attached to the shoulder, and talking as he did so. 

"Most humans, especially the doctors, they don't understand hybrids and hybrid physiology. Some treat us like we're humans with fur. Others as talking animals. Just because humans and hybrids can breed doesn't make them the same and it doesn't mean they should in the first place. I've got this one patient, broken wrist and leg. Nice kid, but his mixing? It messes things up. Bones just a little bit off, some systems more this way, others that. Makes them harder to treat. You're lucky that you're full race. Not so lucky what happened to you, but you were an easy fix. Or would be if you didn't keep straining that shoulder and hand. That human doctor probably didn't tell you that your Vitamin D levels are too low. They think because we're covered in fur that our skin won't make it, but it will. Get some sun or get some supplements. Up your K, iron, and protein too. Couldn't hurt to get a B12 shot while you're here. Nurse?"

"I'll see to it, Doctor."

Kurt stared at his mom with wide eyes. He knew what that meant. He'd seen enough episodes of ER and...and...other shows he couldn't name at the moment, but they all gave that shot in the same place. A needle stabbed into his butt? He'd rather chug a six-pack of Boost at a kegger full of jocks. He cowed to his mom's silently returned expressions to be good. He had to admit she had good mom glare.

"Okay, Kurt, your shoulder isn't quite where I want it to be yet, so we're going to keep you in the sling for a bit longer, but you can start doing a few exercises under the care of a physical therapist. I'll remove your cast today and that should take some of the weight off your shoulder. You'll need a physical therapist to get the tendons in your fingers stretched out and to lessen the scar tissue." He made a few notes in the patient's chart and directed his next order to the help. "Nurse, you can pull the patient's gown back up. Things are about to get messy."

With his left hand, Kurt kept a grip on the hem of the gown as his mom tied it back up and then during the entire procedure. His right arm was placed on a folded up towel on a rolling bedside table and then a small, round, electric saw was set to his cast. It didn't take long to cut through the layers. Removing the wrappings underneath took more time. Kurt looked at his hand in horror. The fur under the cast had grown back curly and strawberry blonde.

The doctor saw his patient's reaction and explained. "Hybrid hair tends to change color and texture when it's shaved and grown back under a cast. Don't worry, a couple of months, a couple of sheddings, and it'll return to normal. You won't even be able to tell."

Kurt wasn't sure he believed the man, but didn't really have any knowledge to counter it. "Okay." 

"When are you coming back?"

"Um, May 12, for my hip." Kurt watched curiously as the doctor did some calculations in his head.

"Three weeks is longer than I'd like, but it's doable and saves the clinic money. For your shoulder, I want you in the sling for another week. The week after, half a day in, half a day out. After that, see how it goes twenty-four/seven. No lifting heavy things. No strenuous movements. Nice and slow. If it hurts, stop. If there's swelling, ice it. The nurse can print up some stretches to do until you can set up an appointment with a physical therapist. Do you have any questions or are you all good?"

"I'm good."

"Great. I'll see you in three weeks."

Kurt watched as the doctor left abruptly, not even taking the time or courtesy to close the curtain behind him. His mom did, affording him what little privacy there was in this place.

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

"It's okay." Kurt thought his words over and tried again. "I mean, it's not, but I've come to expect it. I'm sorry for how he treated you."

Carole returned her son's resigned grimace. "It's okay. Like you said, it's not really. But as a nurse, it comes with the job. I'm used to it."

Kurt played with the hem of his medical gown and tried to brush off the dust that had come from the removal of his cast. "Was he mean to Blaine?"

Carole chose her words carefully. "Not directly. He was...professional. It's not like the doctor could unmake him. Blaine got the care he needed. I made sure of it."

"Thank you." For lack of anything else to do, he looked around the small enclosure that was Exam Room 3. He'd been in this one before. Room was a weird name for section of space whose walls were nothing but an old, ugly yellow and blue floral print, not-really-private privacy curtain. He was pretty sure the blood stain was new. "What's next?"

"Doctor Howell is going to come back in. Tell you to keep off the leg and maybe start doing some gentle stretches for that hamstring. Did he talk to you about your ribs?"

"No, he just did a quick exam and got called away. Then Doctor Races Shouldn't Mix came in. Can you check on Blaine? Make sure he's okay?"

"You'll be fine on your own?"

Kurt shrugged and winced at the pain. The shoulder exam had not done him any favors. "I was earlier."

"I'm sorry that your dad couldn't come, but he needed to get some work done in the shop before he picks up your brother. I'll be back as soon as I can." Carole patted her son's arm and kissed the top of his head before she left. She knew how much these visits cost Kurt mentally and could only hope there wouldn't be many more. 

"Thanks, Mom."

It wasn't more than ten minutes after saying those words before Doctor Carl came in with a syringe and told him to lay down on his front so that his butt could be exposed. "Oh, hell, fucking no! Get away from me with that thing! Mom! Mom!" 

"Kurt, it's just a B12 shot." 

"I don't care if it's the cure for cancer." Kurt was relieved when he saw his mom. "Tell him! I've been touched enough today. No one is sticking a needle up my asshole. What the fuck is everyone's fascination with it anyway? Please, Mom. I'll drink the Boost instead. Get him away from me!"

"Your what?" Carole quickly put two and two together. Her son was shaking, his legs drawn up, and his free arm was scrambling to close the gown's back opening. "Kurt, what led you to believe that's where you would get a shot?"

Kurt glared at Doctor Carl. The jackass was practically laughing at him. His mom at least was just worried. "On TV and in the movies. The person drops their pants and then their tail gets lifted if they're a hybrid, and the camera turns away so you don't see exactly where it goes. But we all know where things go. It's where everything goes when you're forced to take off your pants." He knew this! He knew it from the Reformatory and he knew this from his examinations here. If they weren't shoving something up your ass, they were feeling around it. 

Carole knew better than to touch her son when he was terrified, so she calmed him down with her voice instead. "Oh, Kurt, Honey, no. Nothing like that at all. The needle goes into the fatty tissue on the buttock itself, closer to the upper thigh actually." She touched her own bottom to show him the exact area. "No one is going to violate you. I swear. If it'll make you feel any better, I can prepare another B12 shot and Doctor Howell can demonstrate on me. I could probably use one too." 

Kurt scrunched up his face. He wasn't sure he was ready to see mom butt. At least the thought of it had driven out some of the bad ones. "Are you sure I need this?"

"It can only help."

"Will it hurt?"

"You'll feel a little moisture from the antiseptic wipe and then a little pinch and pressure from the needle. Then another wipe and that's it. Similar to getting a blood draw."

"Can you do it?"

At the doctor's nod, Carole retrieved an antiseptic wipe from a drawer, opened it up, and took the syringe from him. "Just lay on your stomach and try not to put pressure on your shoulder or hand."

"Okay." Kurt did as he was told and consented when his mom asked if she could move back a bit of his medical gown, unsure if he was glad he had kept it on or not. He watched her movements closely, ready to flee or flight back if she had lied to him. The cold moisture of the wipe made him startle a little and the needle hurt more than "a pinch," but it was over quickly.

"You're all done, Kurt."

Kurt accepted his mom's help in turning back over and was grateful when she tugged the front of the gown over his privates and tucked the sides around his backside. "Am I stupid for thinking what I did?"

"No, Sweetie. Just misinformed and traumatized in ways no one deserves."

Kurt laid where he was and look forlornly at his mom. "Can I go home now?"

"In a little bit. Doctor Howell needs to talk some things over with you and then finish up with Blaine."

"Can you stay with me?"

"Of course."

The rest of the visit went quickly after that. His ankle and ribs were declared healed, but he was given the usual lecture to stay off his hip and go easy on the rest. Gentle stretching could be done to start rehabilitating the hamstring and ITB. The nutrition lecture was also repeated. He was sure he had it memorized by now.

At long last Kurt was allowed to get dressed and snuggle next to Blaine in the car while his mom went back inside the building to get a few things. "I got a shot in my ass. How about you?"

Blaine leaned his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and let out a sigh. "I got my ass examined."

Kurt tensed. He knew exactly what that meant and there was no misunderstanding about it given Blaine's tone. "What? Why?"

"Remember my birthday?"

"Fondly."

Blaine tried to laugh, but it came out weak. "Remember the night after my birthday and the next weekend and your adoption day and all the celebrating we've been doing since even though your mom keeps finding condom wrappers and getting mad?"

"Of course."

"It's been a bit...rough sometimes and I asked to be checked out."

Kurt pulled back so his boyfriend could see the remorse in his eyes. "Blaine, why didn't you say something? You know our rules, consent and comfort. Neither of us does anything without both."

"I know. It's okay. I wanted to. Trust me."

"So what was the diagnosis?"

Blaine shifted, wanted to get his broken leg into a better position and stall for time. He hated the intimate area exams and hated the lecture he had been given after this one. "I'm fine. No major damage. Nothing that a week or two of abstinence from anal activities won't fix and we're to take things a bit slower for awhile after that. Better prep, more lubricant. No more fingering me with the hand that's in a cast, but that's not relevant anymore. I have to make sure I'm not putting any pressure on your hip or my leg. Things like that."

"I'm really sorry."

"I know, but you don't have to be."

The car shook a bit and they turned around to see Carole load something into the trunk.

The minute his mom was in the car, Kurt turned on her. All thoughts of what he and Blaine could and couldn't do in bed were erased. "What was that? Was that a case of Boost? It was wasn't it?"

Carole sighed. So much for the boys not noticing. "It's a new flavor and a first run batch, Kurt. You boys are to try it out and give your opinions on a questionnaire."

"Oh, I'll give my opinions!"

She started the car and couldn't help but meet her son with a retort of her own. Being Kurt and Blaine's acting guardian and main health care provider, Doctor Howell had filled her in on the results of their check up. "Great, you can write them down with those newly-freed fingers. Give them something to do while your boyfriend heals from activities you weren't supposed to be doing in the first place."

"Oh my god!"

"I hate to say it, Kurt, but maybe next time, you should listen to your mother with the nursing degree."

* * * * * * *

No amount of bribing with pizza could calm Kurt down as he watched his dad and mom help Finn unload the truck, bringing inside more than possibly could have fit in a shared dorm room. He wished his dad hadn't hidden the bottle of champagne April had given Blaine. A drink would have helped and was worth the risk of mixing with his anti-anxiety meds. It would be a few hours before he took them anyway.

Finn had greeted him cheerfully, calling him Bro and Dude. He'd been nice to Blaine too. He hadn't stared too much, but then again, Kurt had kept his underwear, undershirt, socks, pajama pants, and a thick hoodie on, then covered himself and his boyfriend with blankets. If he had to flee, he wanted to be at least somewhat able to withstand the elements. For late April, it was unusually cold, and had been all month.

The only unpleasant remarks Finn had made was about the bedside commode and complaining about how was he supposed to eat in the living room where people were pooping. Their mom had reminded him that such had been happening over Spring Break as well. only with bedpans and urinals. While it grossed Finn out, it apparently had no affect on his appetite and he shoved another half slice of pizza in his mouth.

Kurt held his tongue throughout it all. He didn't yell at Finn that he and Blaine would have been better by now had he not forced them upstairs and caused them to be injured. He didn't tell him he was lucky to be able to eat at all and with unlimited access to food. He didn't even taunt him with the fact that he'd been using his game system while naked and had more than once gotten his dick confused with the joystick. 

Instead, from the minute Finn entered the house to the minute he walked up the stairs to go to sleep, he watched, he waited, he ate little and pocketed his servings in a large plastic baggie, making sure there was enough for Blaine too. He wasn't going to let his boyfriend down again.

* * * * * * *

Kurt worked hard to keep his morning erection, accepting Blaine's eager offer to help as he quietly removed his clothing. He had planned this weeks ago. His parents would probably call it an act of rebellion. His boyfriend knew it for what it was - a test. A test to see if he would be kicked out, if they would favor Finn's needs over his own, if they really would remain his parents and he their son like they'd promised. And most of all wanted to see what Finn would do. He was the greatest danger. 

Secure in the knowledge that Blaine was dressed with his crutches and their bolt bags within easy reach, Kurt walked into the kitchen. He tried to hide his limp as he did so, standing as proud and bold as he could, the only sign of weakness being his right arm in a sling. 

His mom was the first to notice his entrance as she turned her head away from the stove where she was scrambling eggs for breakfast. He heard her quiet sigh that she tried to hide with a polite smile.

"Do you want some eggs, Sweetie or did you want something else for breakfast?"

"Eggs would be great, thank you. Could you make some for Blaine too?"

"Already was."

Kurt went to the counter and pulled a banana off the bunch hanging on the holder. Leaning back on the cabinets to take the weight off his leg and remain in full erect view, he peeled the piece of curved fruit and slowly began to eat it. It was then that Finn looked up from his bowl of cereal and his eyes went wide, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away. 

Kurt grinned smugly. Finn could stare in jealousy at the size of his dick all he wanted. He'd seen the guy sporting wood while watching a sportsball game on TV. Getting all excited while going commando in loose gym shorts had left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It had been like watching an albino eel flopping around inside its cave, taking the occasional peek outside. He had never understood the machismo need of human and hybrid males to brag about the size of their dicks and consider the bigger, the more dominant. He was going to take advantage of that fact though.

When he was done eating his banana, he went and poured himself a cup of coffee. Opening up the fridge in order to retrieve some milk started to wilt him a bit, but then he thought of Blaine's talented mouth and it instantly returned to fullness. Lest his mom chastise him for being on his bad leg for too long, he set his coffee cup down on the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. He stretched his body and shook out his muscles before seating himself. The action had honestly felt good, but the sight of Finn's open mouth and then intent focus on his bowl of cereal was even better.

"Are you making sausages too, Mom?"

"Bacon, Kurt."

"Sounds great. Thanks." Kurt admired his mom for having the patience of a saint and not yell at him or send him back to the living room. He ate the food he was given, not speaking to Finn, but watching him via small glances and out of the corner of his eye, and keeping up a conversation with his mom. "Are you or Dad going to be home or will Sam be coming over?"

"We're splitting the day. Your dad will be at the shop for most of it, but then I've got the late shift at work. If I run a few errands this afternoon, will you be okay?"

Kurt understood his mom's pointed stare and raised eyebrow and replied to the unspoken, true meaning of her question. Fortunately, Finn remained clueless and quiet. "Blaine and I have our cell phones charged and will call you if we need help."

"Thank you. Write down anything you need."

"Thanks, Mom." Kurt finished his breakfast and when he was done, offered to take Blaine's in. His erection had waned by then, but it no longer mattered. The first stage of the test was over and the rest was just beginning.

* * * * * * *

Kurt refused to wear a single stitch of clothing for the next three weeks. He ate naked. He slept naked. He watched TV with his family naked. And he played video games with Sam completely and utterly naked, which had Finn running away in horror, calling their mom on the phone and shouting at her, "Kurt's junk is touching the controller!" He played a lot more video games after that, even the ones he hated. 

He even made out with Blaine when his parents were asleep or out of the house and knew that Finn was around and awake. Exhibitionism wasn't either of their thing, but Blaine had understood. Kurt had to make sure they were going to be safe. They had kept to the medical rule of no anal, but oral and getting handsy were on the table, or the fold out couch really, and in full view. Flashbacks and panic attacks had stopped them a few times, retreating under the covers and soothing the other down and away from the nightmares of the past. For the most part, things had gone smoothly, orgasms had, with very few complaints from Finn. Both his mom and dad had quietly, yet not-so-subtly dropped off bottles of lube, boxes of condoms, and Miss Pillsbury's pamphlets, _Public or Private: Is Exhibitionism Right for You?_ and _Help, I Can't Stop Having Sex in Public Places_. They had cooled it off after that. 

On the third week, Finn started hanging out more with his friends, finding any excuse to leave the house. He'd even offered to run errands, but their parents knew from past experience that the list wouldn't be only be partially followed and the money spent on junk food. This Kurt could understand. There were a lot of things he would love to splurge on if he had the money. Cheesecake, pizza, stylish hats, and clothing that in no way could be mistaken for loungewear at the top of the list.

When he wasn't testing the patience of his parents and brother, Kurt did as was asked of him. He accepted his routine medical care with minimal complaint, though being forced to drink cans of Boost still pissed him off. He'd caught his parents altering his comments on the questionnaire, grumbling about all the curse words while at the same time admiring his creative use of the unique ones. 

He had his physical therapy sessions, letting Sam use him as a guinea pig who was now training under the direction of a certified physical therapist who worked for the clinic. Kurt wore underwear, shorts, and a tank top for those appointments. He didn't know the PT and needed the layers to help him feel protected. At least his mom or dad tried to be around for them too, understanding that the touching would be longer than any he had experienced at the clinic. 

He had his mental therapy sessions too. Miss Pillsbury responded to his new treatment fears with _Anxiety: I'm Shaking Too Much to Open This Pamphlet_ and _Good Touch vs Bad Touch: How to Tell the Difference_. She gave him a few regarding sibling rivalry and _The Awkward Puzzle Piece: A Guide for Adopted Kids_ as well. 

* * * * * * *

Friday, May 11th came and once again, Kurt and Blaine were helped into the back of the truck and driven to the former Boost factory that had been converted into a semi-secret medical clinic for the hybrid population of Allen County and surrounding areas. 

They were seated in wheelchairs upon entering and pushed to examination rooms, adjacent this time. Each was helped out of their clothing, then Blaine into a medical gown, while Kurt retained his reputation as Naked Guy.

Blaine had been assigned to Doctor Jones and sadly both knew what that meant. They exchanged a despondent look before the curtain was closed between them. 

While Blaine was getting probed, Kurt submitted to Doctor Carl's examination of his hip and truthfully answering in the negative when asked if there was any telltale pain in his pelvic area when he put weight on the leg. Only his hamstring and ITB remained mildly painful as of late, but that was mostly on days with bad weather, same as his hip and ribs. His shoulder and still blonde-haired hand were given an initial assessment too. 

The usual X-rays and CAT scans followed. He and Blaine got to chat for a few minutes while waiting their turn. Blaine assured Kurt that everything had checked out okay and he was cleared to resume "enjoyable activities" as long as all of their broken bones had healed thoroughly as well. 

Kurt put on a medical gown, despite knowing it would be pulled down, when it came time to be examined by the orthopedic surgeon. His mom was with him as before and he answered the doctor's questions as succinctly as he could and tried not to roll his eyes at his prejudicial attitudes. He didn't like or trust most humans either, but his adoptive parents were human and his boyfriend was half-human. So was his home health aid and, much to mom's great joy, the sweetest woman he'd ever met who was sponsoring his care and had called to check on him once on one of her good days. They weren't the government nor those who had elected the administration to power. He kept quiet about it all though. The man wouldn't understand and he just wanted the examination to be over with. 

Kurt did let out a long and happy smile of relief when he was declared well enough to resume normal use of the arm, shoulder, and hand within limits. Lots of physical therapy was still in his future as was being restricted to light activities. 

His mom tied his gown back up, then wheeled him back to his examination room where he asked to be disrobed again, "Just in case they have to do another exam while you're helping Blaine." 

His dad stayed by his side and they talked cars and how the extended winter had drummed up an increase in all-weather tire sales at Hummel Tires & Lube. Hesitantly, Kurt asked he could starting working again if he was medically cleared and was thrilled at his dad's cheerful agreement. He also asked if he could start going over to Millie and Marley's to take French lessons one of the homeschooling parents was offering to the hybrid kids that had formed a kind of co-op and safe place to learn. As with the offer to work, his dad had happily agreed.

Kurt didn't admit that he had been thinking of going to college some day and wanted to save up the money and finish his high school education in order to do so. He didn't have a clue as to what he wanted to study or when it would even be financially possible, but the brochures his aunts had sent had planted the idea in his head and he liked it. 

Doctor Carl came in at last and showed him the Before and After scans. His hip had finally healed, but like his shoulder and other injuries, had to be used lightly for another few months. "Slowly, slowly, and you stop when it hurts. Listen to your physical therapist and your mom so you don't have to come back here, okay?"

Kurt's greatest joy came when he heard the privacy curtain between his and Blaine's rooms being pulled aside and there was Blaine standing on both legs and waving with his now dark-blonde hand that matched his right leg, completely cast free. He was leaning on crutches, but his smile was wide. It expanded further when he pulled aside a portion of his medical gown to reveal that he was also now sling free, his unencumbered tail swishing a happy beat behind him. 

Kurt went to him and they hugged and wiped away tears and commented on how they both looked like the product of drunken stylists with their mismatched fur colors. They only knew their shared kiss had gone on for longer than expected when Burt cleared his throat and handed them their pants. Embarrassed, but laughing, they dressed and tried not to protest the precaution of being wheeled out of the clinic one last time. 

As they drove away, promises of a celebratory dinner coming from his parents, Kurt flipped off the clinic in contrast to Blaine's wave of goodbye. 

When they got home and Kurt had been reassured that there would be no ice pack or heating pad time for the rest of the day, he did something he hadn't done in months. Ignoring the curious stares, he gathered up a number of items from his storage shelving unit and headed to the bathroom. When he emerged an hour later, he was thoroughly showered, dried, and brushed. 

He laughed at his dad's muttered, "Oh, thank god," at the most shocking part of his appearance. For he was dressed from feet to head - socks, undergarments, skull print lounge pants, gray plaid newsboy hat, and the piece de resistance - a gray and red Canada T-shirt his aunts had sent him as an early birthday and adoption day present.

Kurt gazed fondly at his kindhearted and generous boyfriend, at the two people who had taken him in and proven time and time again that he was indeed their son, and even at the well meaning-yet still clueless guy who was now his brother. The worst was behind him. He was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Like Empty Nest, I'm writing this as I go along. I wanted to live in this verse for awhile long and tell some stories I didn't get to in the previous one. Thanks to all who read the first fic. I hope you enjoy this one too. Thanks to avengerco, my spouse and beta :)


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